pzb.lostsouls-第54部分

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hape　another　of　their　victims；　a　child　with　all　the　life　sucked　out　of　it；　hanging　bonelessly？　Or　was　it　some　voodoo　creation　of　Arkady's；　some　dried　effigy　that　would　e　to　life　and　jerk　toward　him　in　a　horrible　parody　of　dance？
　　Ghost　stood　in　the　doorway　a　moment　longer；　pulling　his　hair　over　his　face；　staring　through　its　pale　curtain　into　the　room。　He　didn't　want　to　know　what　the　shape　was。　He　wanted　to　pull　the　door　shut；　go　on　down　the　hall　to　the　bathroom；　and　get　back　to　bed。　With　Steve　asleep　beside　him；　he　would　not　be　afraid。
　　But　he　had　to　know　what　was　going　on　here；　whether　this　was　a　safe　place　or　not。　Before　he　could　think　about　it　any　more；　he　made　himself　walk　to　the　foot　of　the　bed　and　prod　the　shape　with　one　finger。
　　A　pillow；　wadded　into　a　hard　little　knot。　That　was　all　it　was。　For　a　second　he　was　glad　Steve　was　in　the　other　room　passed　out；　not　here　to　see　him　getting　spooked　over　a　pillow。　Then　he　wished　Steve　were　here；　even　though　he　knew　Steve　would　call　him　a　pussy。　Steve　hadn't　been　laughing　at　much　of　anything　these　days。　Even　tonight。　Usually　when　they　went　on　a　real　bender；　they　would　start　remembering　stuff　they　had　done　when　they　were　kids；　making　stupid　jokes；　imitating　each　other。　〃Fuckin'　shit；　Steve；　you　sure　are　sucking　down　that　fuckin'　brew；〃　Ghost　would　say；　and　Steve　would　reply　imperturbably；　〃Yeah；　but　I　can　feel　the　spirit　of　the　beer　inside　me。〃
　　But　tonight　Steve　had　swilled　his　beer　silently；　staring　into　its　golden　depths；　at　the　mirror　behind　the　bar；　at　the　colored　lights　out　on　Bourbon　Street。　When　he　met　Ghost's　eyes；　he　would　not　hold　the　gaze。　But　before　Steve　looked　away；　Ghost　had　seen　stark　terror　in　his　eyes。
　　Ghost　picked　up　the　pillow　and　smoothed　it　out。　As　he　was　about　to　toss　it　back　onto　the　bed；　he　saw　the　strands　of　hair　clinging　to　the　linen。　He　picked　a　few　of　them　off　they　were　brittle；　translucent…and　held　them　up　to　the　moonlight；　trying　to　see　their　color。　Some　of　the　strands　were　clear　ruby…red。　Some　were　bright　bleachy　yellow。　Neither　color　looked　natural。
　　Over　to　his　right；　the　closet　door　creaked　and　swung　halfway　open。
　　Ghost　looked　at　it；　his　head　lifted　high；　his　nostrils　flaring　a　little。　The　door　was　tauntingly　still；　trying　to　pretend　it　had　been　halfway　open　all　the　time。　Trying　to　pretend　a　sudden　gust　from　nowhere　had　swept　through　the　room。　Trying　to　pretend　the　floor　wasn't　level　and　it　had　just　happened　to　swing　open　while　Ghost　was　standing　there　alone　in　the　middle　of　the　night。
　　Ghost　wasn't　fooled。　He　moved　toward　the　closet　and　put　his　hand　on　the　knob。　When　no　one　twisted　it　from　the　other　side；　he　yanked　the　door　wide　open。
　　For　one　terrible　second　he　thought　something　was　drifting　toward　him；　some　bright　many…armed　wraith。　Then　he　saw　that　the　closet　was　haunted　only　by　clothes；　strange；　beautiful　clothes　of　colored　silk。　Were　they　dresses？　Shirts？　Ghost　took　a　sea…green　sleeve　between　his　thumb　and　his　forefinger；　rubbing　the　slippery　sensuous　cloth；　wondering。　Loose　hangers　kissed　softly　against　each　other。
　　Who　wore　these　rich　clothes？　He　pulled　a　swath　of　rose…colored　silk　toward　him　and　buried　his　nose　in　its　cool　depths。　The　cloth　was　saturated　with　the　smells　of　strawberry　incense；　of　clove　cigarettes；　of　wine；　of　tangy　sweat。
　　The　smells　drew　him　in。
　　And　as　he　breathed　the　heady　melange；　a　voice　whispered　to　him　from　the　depths　of　the　closet：　〃Ghost。。。　easy。。。
　　He　was　never　sure　how　he　got　out　of　the　room　and　made　a　wrong　turn　down　the　hall。　Maybe　he　meant　to　go　racing　back　to　his　room；　maybe　he　meant　to　lock　himself　in　the　bathroom　and　stay　there　all　night。　He　never　meant　to　barge　into　Arkady's　bedroom…that　much　was　certain。　But　all　at　once　there　he　was；　and　there　was　Arkady　burning　a　candle　on　his　nightstand；　playing　with　several　little　heaps　of　colored　powder　on　a　white　plate；　pushing　them　into　intricate　convoluted　patterns　of　arrows；　curlicues；　lines；　and　crosses。
　　When　Ghost　slammed　into　the　room　and　leaned　panting　against　the　door；　Arkady　looked　up　and　smiled。　All　the　colored　powders　fell　back　in　a　bright　spray　across　the　plate。　〃What　a　lovely　surprise；〃　said　Arkady。　〃Well。　Not　precisely　a　surprise；　since　I　heard　you　ing　down　the　hall。　But　I　am　ever　so　pleased　to　see　you　nonetheless。〃
　　
　　First；　Arkady　made　Ghost　swallow　a　tranquilizing　powder。　Ghost　didn't　want　it；　but　in　the　end　it　was　easy　to　make　him　swallow　it：　Arkady　just　slipped　inside　Ghost's　mind　and　pushed。　Usually　he　would　not　have　tried　such　a　thing　on　a　sensitive　as　powerful　as　Ghost；　but　the　boy　was　terrified　and　exhausted。　It　was　easy。
　　Then　he　made　Ghost　tell　his　tale：　the　whole　thing；　vampires　and　all。　It　was　more　convoluted　and　full　of　pain　than　Arkady　could　have　guessed。　Ghost's　hands　twitched　all　the　way　through　the　telling；　he　tugged　his　pale　hair　over　his　eyes；　and　more　than　once　Arkady　heard　a　sob　catch　in　his　throat。
　　At　last　Ghost　fell　silent。　He　tried　to　remain　sitting；　but　his　head　kept　drooping　and　his　eyes　threatened　to　slip　shut。　Arkady　saw　Ghost's　hands　clenching　into　loose　fists：　the　poor　boy　was　trying　to　will　himself　to　stay　awake。
　　With　a　light　finger　Arkady　touched　Ghost's　lips；　those　lovely　lips　so　pale；　so　delicately　lined；　tucked　in　at　the　corners　with　worry　and　fear。　Under　his　touch　he　felt　Ghost's　lips　tighten。　Ghost　was　exhausted；　nearly　asleep；　most　likely　he　did　not　know　who　touched　him。　Nevertheless；　Arkady　imagined　how　it　would　be　to　slide　his　finger　between　those　lips；　to　stroke　the　pink　rag　of　a　tongue；　to　be　surrounded　by　the　wet　warmth　of　Ghost's　mouth。　He　wondered　how　it　would　be　to　taste　Ghost's　sweet　spit。　Poor　boy；　he　thought　again。　Poor　lost　boys；　both　of　them。　One　trying　to　drown　his　fear　in　a　bottle；　and　the　other　this　beautiful　child…trying　to　confront　it　all　alone。
　　〃Poor　boy；〃　murmured　Arkady。　〃You　are　very　brave；　Ghost。　Dreadfully；　achingly　brave。〃　He　stroked　the　smooth　curve　of　Ghost's　throat；　feeling　the　flesh　shudder　beneath　his　touch；　then　let　his　fingers　stray　between　the　neckband　of　the　voluminous　tie…dyed　shirt　Ghost　wore。　When　Ghost　had　e　slamming　into　the　room；　Arkady's　heart　melted　for　the　child　standing　there　trembling　in　that　enormous　shirt　that　made　him　look　so　terribly　young。　He　had　wanted　to　hold　out　his　arms　to　Ghost　。。。。
　　Why　deceive　himself？　He　had　wanted　to　bewitch　Ghost　and　lure　him　into　bed；　to　drive　him　pleasure…mad；　to　drown　him　in　a　sea　of　silk　sheets　and　feather　pillows。　It　wasn't　as　if　he　meant　to　seduce　the　boy…but　might　they　not　offer　each　other　a　night　of　creature　fort；　a　night　of　panionship？　Ghost　would　not　have　to　lie　awake　beside　his　poor　drunken　friend；　pondering　fate；　bloody　births；　lost　souls。　Arkady　would　not　have　to　sit　up　all　night　tracing　useless　veves　by　candlelight；　hoping　for　things　he　might　never　attain。　Hoping　to　look　up　and　see　the　beautiful　proud　face　of　his　brother　Ashley　floating　outside　the　window；　begging　admission　with　those　eyes。　Hoping　to　discover　a　way　to　hurt　Ashley's　lovers；　those　two　lovely　dangerous　creatures　who　would　surely　destroy　him　someday。
　　Arkady　thought　of　what　those　creatures　had　done　to　Ashley。　Might　that　story　not　win　Ghost's　sympathy　at　least？　The　tranquilizing　powder　had　made　Ghost's　body　somnolent；　sapped　the　strength　from　his　muscles；　but　his　mind　would　still　be　alert。　Absently　caressing　Ghost's　rigid　shoulder；　Arkady　began　to　tell　the　tale。
　　〃They　gave　you　a　bad　scare；　Ghost；　did　they　not？　In　the　guest　room。　In　the　closet。　Ah；　but　you　were　snooping。　You　should　never　have　looked　in　there…not　with　your　gift。　Not　with　that　shining　eye　in　your　heart。　They　are　far　too　strong；　far　too　heady　for　one　who　feels　things　as　you　do。　They　are　not　even　in　that　room；　Ghost。　Not　tonight；　though　they　will　be　back　in　the　morning；　or　the　next　morning；　or　the　one　after　that。　Who　knows？　The　Lord…〃　Arkady　crossed　himself　with　his　free　hand；　upside　down　then　right　side　up…〃the　Lord　alone　knows　where　they　are　tonight。　What　strange　new　substances　they　have　swallowed　or　sniffed　or　shot　into　their　perfect　ruby　veins；　or　whom　they　have　found　to　love。　
　　〃Whom　they　have　found　to　love。
　　〃They　leave　their　essence　everywhere　they　go。　It　must　be　dreadfully　strong　in　that　closet　where　they　throw　their　dirty　clothes；　the　clothes　full　of　their　sweat；　their　smoke；　their　sweet　clove…scented　ectoplasm。　Did　that　drift　out　at　you；　Ghost？　Do　they　know　you；　perchance？　Have　you　met？　Or　did　they　just　speak　to　you　as　one　lost　soul　to　another？　Ah；　but　you　must　not　be　afraid　of　them。　To　you　they　are　as　harmless　as　a　forgotten　song　on　an　antique　record。　To　you　they　are　as　harmless　as　a　rotting　old　gravestone。　It　is　me　they　can　hurt。　It　was　Ashley　they　could　hurt；　and　whoever　they　have　found　to　share　their　deadly　ecstasy　tonight。
　　〃That　is　what　they　want；　Ghost。　Nay…that　is　what　they　need；　for　they　feed　upon　your　pleasure　and　your　terror　and　your　pain。　They　must　terrify　you；　as　they　do　the　children　who　are　their　victims；　they　must　enter　your　dreams　and　give　you　a　nightmare　so　horrible　that　you　never　awaken　from　it。　But　their　greatest　pleasure　is　not　to　terrify…it　is　to　bewitch。　They　want　you　to　love　them；　it　makes　the　final　moment　of　betrayal　sweeter。　They　must　e　to　you　in　the　flesh　and　make　love　with　you。　They　must　lure　you　down　onto　some　ancient　stained　mattress；　or　beneath　a　silken　coverlet；　or　into　an　alley　where　they　will　kneel　before　you　in　the　filth。　You　must　bee　addicted　to　their　spit；　you　must　breathe　their　scent　until　you　are　intoxicated。
　　〃Only　then　will　they　consummate　their　love　for　you　as　they　did　for　Ashley…by　sucking　you　dry。　By　taking　every　drop　of　your　beauty；　your　youth；　the　fire　that　drives　you。　By　leaving　you　a　husk；　a　dry；　living　shell。　As　they　did　to　my　brother　Ashley。
　　〃I　found　him　when　I　returned　home　from　Paris　at　the　end　of　that　long　dying　winter。　We　had　been　living　in　a　church　down　by　Bayou　St。　John；　an　abandoned　place。　Ashley　hanged　himself　in　the　bell　tower。　He　had　no　choice；　truly；　Ashley　was　born　with　a　healthy　dose　of　the　Raventon　dramatic　flair。　He　hung　there　for　a　week　before　I　came　home。　He　knew　I　would　be　back…I　never　broke　a　promise　to　Ashley…but　he　could　not　wait。
　　〃When　I　cut　his　body　down；　I　saw　why。　It　was　as　dry　and　twisted　as　a　mandrake　root。　A