pzb.lostsouls-第57部分

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e　anymore；　that　your　skin　would　never　grow　creased　and　delicate；　your　hair　would　not　turn　brittle　white；　your　hands　would　stay　smooth　and　strong。　He　shivered。　He　wouldn't　like　it；　looking　in　the　mirror　every　day　and　seeing　the　same　face；　with　none　of　the　sorrow　and　laughter　of　life　reflected　there。
　　Ghost's　heart　twitched　at　the　thought　of　Nothing　being　one　of　those　blanks。　The　other　three　had　faces　like　stylized　masks；　smooth　and　white；　with　only　drunken　madness　blazing　out　of　their　eyes。　Even　Christian's　face　was　blank；　though　a　faint　frigid　sorrow　gleamed　in　his　eyes。　But　Nothing。。。　Nothing's　face　was　so　young；　the　ers　of　his　mouth　so　tender；　his　eyes　full　of　wondrous　pain。　All　that　should　not　be　wiped　away　by　immortality。
　　But　Ghost　was　here　to　save　Ann；　not　Nothing。　Still；　he　could　not　stop　hurting　for　Nothing；　no　more　than　he　could　stop　his　heart　beating；　But　。　。　。　Help　the　ones　you　love；　his　grandmother　had　told　him；　help　them　when　you　can；　and　after　that；　mind　your　business。　Your　gift　doesn't　give　you　the　right　to　go　rearranging　other　people's　lives　for　them。　You　might　see　their　souls；　but　they　won't　always　want　you　to　be　their　mirror。
　　Yes；　he　could　see　Nothing's　soul。　It　was　in　those　haunted　eyes；　and　in　the　shadows　under　them…fatigue；　drink　and　chemicals；　yesterday's　makeup。　Nothing　was　a　lost　soul　because　he　wanted　to　be。　It　was　what　he　had　always　wanted；　it　was　his　birthright。
　　But　Ann　had　been　bewitched。　Done　in　by　the　light　of　chartreuse　eyes；　by　loneliness；　by　the　opium　of　Zillah's　spit　and　the　poison　juices　of　whatever　grew　inside　her。
　　And　what　was　that？　All　along；　Ghost　had　been　thinking　of　the　baby　as　a　dark　lump　of　blood；　the　seed　of　Ann's　death。　And　it　was。　But　it　was　also　Nothing's　brother　or　sister；　and　Nothing　was　not　evil。　Only　lost；　as　surely　lost　as　Ann's　child　would　soon　be。
　　Ghost　imagined　himself　trapped　in　the　womb；　his　soft　bones　crumbling；　the　poison　searing　his　raw　new　skin　away。　The　poison　he　and　Steve　had　asked　Arkady　to　make。　Had　ended　up　giving　Arkady　twenty　dollars　to　make。
　　Ghost　leaned　against　a　wall　and　closed　his　eyes。　There　were　a　million　sides　to　everything。　Most　people　were　able　to　block　out　some　of　them。　Ghost　sometimes　thought　he　saw　them　all…not　that　it　helped。
　　〃e　in　and　kiss　me。。。〃　whispered　a　voice　that　seemed　to　emanate　from　within　the　wall。
　　He　jumped　and　opened　his　eyes。　Voices　from　nowhere　made　him　more　nervous　than　usual　these　days；　but　this　hadn't　sounded　like　the　voice　in　the　closet：　it　was　faint　and　dry；　almost　too　tiny　to　hear；　like　the　voice　of　an　insect。
　　When　the　voice　didn't　speak　again；　Ghost　looked　around　and　found　himself　lost。　He　didn't　even　seem　to　be　in　the　French　Quarter　anymore。　To　his　back　were　forbidding；　scorched…looking　apartment　towers。　A　wide；　busy　avenue　stretched　in　front　of　him；　a　small　gate　opened　in　the　wall　to　his　left。　He　slipped　through　the　gate　and　entered　the　city　of　the　dead。
　　
　　Ghost　had　heard　about　the　cemeteries　of　New　Orleans。　The　groundwater　here　was　so　high　that　the　coffins　had　to　be　entombed　above　ground。　There　was　no　real　earth　to　bury　them　in；　if　you　tried　to　dig　a　hole；　it　would　quickly　turn　into　a　pit　of　oozing　mud。　A　heavy　rain　could　float　coffins　and　corpses　to　the　surface。　But　nothing　he'd　heard　had　prepared　him　for　the　blinding　whitewashed　landscape　of　Saint　Louis　Number　One；　possibly　the　oldest　cemetery　in　the　city；　certainly　the　gaudiest　and　most　haphazardly　arranged。
　　There　were　coffins　bricked　into　the　walls；　layer　upon　layer。　That　was　the　first　thing　Ghost　noticed。　Some　of　the　brickwork　had　collapsed；　and　he　could　see　ashy　shadows　within　the　wall；　the　occasional　glint　of　sunlight　on　bone；　brick；　or　broken　glass。　No　wonder　there　were　voices　in　these　walls。　At　his　feet　a　maze　of　narrow　pathways　stretched　away　into　the　necropolis。
　　Farther　in；　he　was　amazed　at　how　tightly　packed　together　the　tombs　were。　In　some　places　he　had　to　turn　sideways　and　squeeze　between　them。　High　peaked　vaults　loomed　over　the　path。　Tall　iron　crosses　jabbed　into　the　sky；　bristled　along　the　tops　of　the　intricate　ironwork　fences　that　bordered　several　plots。　Almost　all　the　tombs　were　white…made　of　moon…pale　marble；　silvery　granite；　or　whitewashed　brick…and　the　sunlight　upon　them　dazzled　Ghost's　eyes。
　　Against　all　the　whiteness　a　thousand　bits　of　color　swarmed。　There　were　flowers　everywhere；　plaster　Virgins　and　saints　with　gaily　painted　robes；　colored…glass　tumblers　full　of　rainwater；　copper　and　silver　coins　embedded　in　cement。　Some　of　the　ironwork　fences　around　the　graves　fluttered　with　ribbons；　others　were　hung　with　rosaries　or　Mardi　Gras　beads。
　　Ghost　passed　a　tomb　chalked　with　hundreds　of　red　X's　in　groups　of　three。　He　stopped　and　looked　at　it　for　a　long　moment。　At　first　it　gave　him　no　feeling　at　all；　it　might　have　been　empty。　Then　suddenly　he　knew　what　he　was　supposed　to　do。　Chips　of　brick　and　nubs　of　red　chalk　were　scattered　near　the　base　of　the　tomb。　Ghost　picked　one　up；　turned　three　times　around；　and　carefully　inscribed　his　own　three　X's　on　the　door　of　the　tomb。　〃I　wish　I　knew　where　Ann　was；〃　he　said。　His　lips　barely　moved；　but　even　the　softest　whisper　seemed　to　bounce　off　the　tombs　and　echo　along　the　empty　paths。
　　Then　he　closed　his　eyes　and　listened　with　all　his　heart。　When　the　presence　came　into　his　head；　he　was　ready　for　it。
　　It　was　a　greedy　spirit；　and　an　arrogant　one。　In　fact；　it　reminded　him　of　no　one　so　much　as　Arkady　Raventon…but　without　Arkady's　weak　flesh；　without　his　craven　lust。　This　was　a　spirit　like　a　flaming　ebony　arrow。　Look　behind　you；　it　said。　That　was　all。　Then　it　was　gone。　Ghost　stepped　backward　and　almost　hit　his　head　on　the　overhanging　doorway　of　another　tomb。
　　Then；　very　slowly；　he　turned　his　head　and　looked　behind　him。
　　Nothing　there　but　gleaming　white　walls　and　flowers　trembling　in　the　breeze。
　　Feeling　stupid；　obscurely　tricked；　Ghost　headed　back　the　way　he　had　e。　But　after　a　couple　of　minutes　he　realized　he　was　no　longer　on　the　same　path。　That　made　him　feel　even　more　stupid；　because　the　tomb　with　the　red　X's　had　been　less　than　twenty　feet　inside　the　gate。　He　was　sure　of　it。　How　could　he　have　gotten　turned　around？　This　path　led　deeper　into　the　cemetery。
　　Soon　there　were　tombs　on　all　sides　of　him；　and　he　had　no　idea　which　path　led　toward　the　gate。　The　tombs　in　the　center　of　the　cemetery　must　be　taller；　that　was　why　they　seemed　to　tower　above　him；　soaring　up　into　the　bright　cloudless　sky。　Over　the　edge　of　the　far　wall　reared　the　dark　mass　of　the　apartment　blocks　。　。　。　the　projects；　he　realized。　It　was　probably　dangerous　to　be　in　here　alone。　The　night　before；　when　they　were　walking　down　the　dark　street　that　led　back　to　Arkady's；　Steve　had　talked　morosely　about　the　crime　in　New　Orleans。　Little　kids　would　run　up　and　shoot　you　in　the　head；　then　rifle　through　your　pockets。　At　least　that　was　what　Steve　said。
　　The　path　twisted　deeper　in。　Now　the　sky　was　a　bristling　forest　of　iron　crosses。　Granite　peaks　wavered　overhead；　seemed　to　bow　over　the　path。　The　tombs　pressed　closer。　Ghost　wedged　himself　between　two　of　them。　For　one　horrible　moment　he　was　stuck。　Soft　brick　crumbled　away。　Something　wriggled　against　his　back。　He　felt　his　shirt　rip。
　　Then　he　pulled　free。　He　half…ran；　half…stumbled　into　an　open　area　where　the　tombs　were　lower　and　squarer；　the　tallest　ones　only　shoulder…high。
　　In　the　center　of　the　open　area　a　girl　lay　supine　on　a　low　marble　slab。　Bunches　of　dried　long…stemmed　roses　were　arranged　around　the　slab；　crimson　gone　to　black；　white　to　ivory；　yellow　and　pink　to　dusty　echoes　of　themselves。　The　girl's　long　red…gold　hair　hung　down　over　the　edge　of　the　slab；　and　some　of　the　roses　had　bee　ensnarled　in　it。　She　was　not　visibly　breathing；　but　Ghost　felt　a　weak　tremor　of　life　as　he　approached。
　　Then　the　girl　raised　her　head；　and　Ghost　saw　what　he　had　known　all　along。　It　was　Ann。　And　she　was　sick。
　　〃Ghost。〃　Her　red…rimmed　eyes　tried　to　bring　him　into　focus。　〃What　are　you　doing　here？〃
　　〃Did　you　sleep　out　here　all　night？〃
　　She　thought　about　it；　then　nodded　slowly。　〃Nowhere　else　to　go。　I　don't　have　any　money；　and　。　。　。　I　didn't　find　。　。〃　She　coughed；　spat　out　a　mouthful　of　phlegm。　It　glistened　faintly　iridescent　against　all　the　whiteness。　Ghost　heard　the　breath　rasping　in　her　chest。
　　〃What　are　you　doing　here？〃　Ann　asked　again。　〃Do　you　know　where　they　are？　Where　Zillah's　staying？〃
　　Ghost　swallowed。　He　wasn't　sure　he　could　do　this。　He　hadn't　counted　on　Ann　being　sick；　it　was　too　easy；　she　had　no　chance　of　resisting。　But　the　fact　that　she　had　asked　for　Zillah　instead　of　Steve…that　helped。　As　did　the　emptiness　he　saw　when　he　met　her　eyes。
　　〃Yeah；〃　he　said。　〃I　know　where　they　are。　I　can　take　you　to　him。〃
　　He　found　the　path　that　led　to　the　gate　on　his　first　try。
　　
　　〃What's　that？〃　asked　Ann。　She　was　staring　blearily　at　the　altar　in　the　back　room　of　Arkady's　shop。　The　shop　was　dark　and　empty；　but　Arkady　had　left　the　door　unlocked。
　　Ghost　fumbled　the　velvet　curtain　back　and　ushered　her　ahead　of　him。　〃Careful　on　the　stairs；〃　he　said。　〃It's　dark　up　there。〃
　　Ann　stared　up　into　the　blackness；　then　slowly　began　to　climb。　Up　one　flight；　around　the　bend；　up　another　flight　to　the　wavering　rectangle　of　light　that　was　the　door。　Ann　went　through　it；　took　two　unsteady　steps　into　the　hall。　〃Zillah？〃　she　said。
　　And　Steve　stepped　out　from　behind　the　door　and　plastered　a　wet　cloth　over　her　face。　They　couldn't　imagine　why　Arkady　kept　a　bottle　of　ether　in　his　back　room；　but　he　had　said　it　would　work。
　　Ghost　saw　Steve's　eyes　clench　shut　as　Ann　struggled　against　the　sick…smelling　cloth。　When　she　went　limp　in　his　arms；　Steve's　face　slackened　too。　For　a　moment　he　looked　as　if　he　would　collapse　with　her。　But　he　held　Ann　upright　and　steadied　her　drooping　head　against　his　shoulder；　then　slid　his　other　arm　under　her　knees；　cradling　her。
　　Ghost　couldn't　remember　the　last　time　he　had　seen　Steve　hold　Ann　so　tenderly。
　　
　　Arkady　pulled　his　fingers　out　of　Ann's　mouth　and　wiped　them　on　her　gray　sweatshirt。　He　patted　her　cheek；　then　pushed　her　limp　jaw　shut。　〃Excellent；〃　he　muttered。
　　Ghost　leaned　his　head　back　against　the　wall　and　closed　his　eyes。　Beside　him；　Steve　shifted；　crossed　and　uncrossed　his　long　legs。　〃So　wh