lh.narcissusinchains-第7部分

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n　have　two　psychics　both　using　stone；　but　the　shields　won't　be　the　same。　Some　people　simply　visualize　rock；　the　thought　of　it；　its　essence；　and　that's　sufficient。　If　something　tries　to　attack　them；　they　are　safe　behind　the　thought　of　rock。　Another　psychic　might　see　a　stone　wall；　like　a　garden　wall　around　an　old　house；　and　that　would　do　the　same　thing。　For　me；　the　shield　had　to　be　a　tower。　All　shields　are　like　bubbles　that　surround　you　pletely；　just　like　circles　of　power。　I'd　always　understood　this　when　I　raised　the　dead；　but　for　shielding　I　needed　to　see　it　in　my　head。　So　I　imagined　a　stone　tower；　pletely　enclosed；　no　windows；　no　chinks；　smooth　and　dark　inside　with　only　what　I　allowed　in　or　out。　Talking　about　shielding　always　made　me　feel　like　I　was　having　a　psychotic　break　and　sharing　my　delusions。　But　it　worked；　and　when　I　didn't　shield；　things　tried　to　hurt　me。　It　had　only　been　in　the　last　two　weeks　that　Marianne　had　discovered　that　I　hadn't　really　understood　shielding　at　all。　I'd　thought　it　was　just　a　matter　of　how　powerful　your　aura　was　and　how　you　could　reinforce　it。　She　said　the　only　reason　I'd　been　able　to　get　by　with　that　for　as　long　as　I　had　was　that　I　was　simply　that　powerful。　But　the　shielding　goes　outside　the　aura　like　a　wall　around　a　castle；　an　extra　defense。　The　innermost　defense　is　a　healthy　aura。　Hopefully　by　the　end　of　the　night　I'd　have　one　of　those。
　I　turned　the　corner　and　found　a　line　of　people　that　stretched　down　the　block。　Great；　just　what　I　needed。　I　didn't　stop　at　the　end　of　the　line；　I　kept　walking　towards　the　door；　hoping　I'd　think　of　something　to　tell　the　doorperson　when　I　got　there。　I　didn't　have　time　to　wait　through　all　this。　I　was　about　halfway　up　the　line　when　a　figure　pushed　out　of　the　crowd　and　called　my　name。
　It　took　me　a　second　to　recognize　Jason。　First；　he'd　cut　his　baby…fine　blond　hair　short；　businessman　short。　Second；　he　was　wearing　a　sheer　silver　mesh　shirt　and　a　pair　of　pants　that　seemed　mostly　made　of　the　same　stuff。　Only　a　thin　line　of　solid　silver　ran　over　his　groin。　The　outfit　was　so　eye…catching　that　it　took　me　a　moment　to　realize　just　how　sheer　the　cloth　was。　What　I　was　really　seeing　wasn't　the　silver；　but　Jason's　skin　through　a　veil　of　glitter。　The　outfit；　which　left　precious　little　to　the　imagination；　ended　in　calf…high　gray　boots。
　I　had　to　make　myself　look　at　his　face；　because　I　was　still　shaking　my　head　over　the　outfit。　The　outfit　didn't　look　fortable；　but　of　course；　Jason　rarely　plained　about　his　clothes。　He　was　like　Jean…Claude's　little　dress…up　werewolf；　as　well　as　morning　snack。　Sometimes　bodyguard　and　sometimes　a　fetch…and…carry　boy。　Who　else　could　Jean…Claude　get　to　stand　out　in　the　cold；　nearly　naked？
　Jason's　eyes　looked　bigger；　bluer　somehow；　without　all　the　hair　to　distract　your　eye。　His　face　looked　older　with　the　shorter　hair；　the　bone　structure　cleaner；　and　I　realized　that　Jason　was　perilously　close　to　that　line　between　cute　and　handsome。　He'd　been　nineteen　when　we　met。　Twenty…two　looked　better　on　him。　But　the　outfit　　there　was　nothing　to　do　but　grin　at　the　outfit。
　He　was　grinning　at　me；　too。　I　think　we　were　both　happy　to　see　each　other。　In　leaving　Richard　and　Jean…Claude　I'd　left　their　people　behind；　too。　Jason　was　Richard's　pack　member；　and　Jean…Claude's　lap　wolf。
　〃You　look　like　a　pornographic　space　man。　If　you　were　wearing　street　clothes；　you　might　have　gotten　a　hug；〃　I　said。
　His　smile　flashed　even　wider。　〃I　guess　I'm　dressed　for　punishment。　Jean…Claude　told　me　to　wait　for　you　and　take　you　in。　My　hand's　already　got　a　stamp　on　it　so　we　can　just　go　straight　inside。〃
　〃A　little　cold　for　the　clothes；　isn't　it？〃
　〃Why　do　you　think　I　was　standing　deep　in　the　crowd？〃　He　offered　me　his　arm。　〃May　I　escort　you　inside；　my　lady？〃
　I　took　his　arm　with　my　left　hand。　Jason　put　his　free　hand　on　top　of　mine；　doing　a　double　hold。　If　that　was　the　worst　teasing　he　did　tonight；　then　he'd　grown　up　some。　The　silver　cloth　was　rougher　than　it　looked；　scratchy　where　it　rubbed　against　my　arm。
　As　Jason　led　me　up　the　steps；　I　had　to　look　behind　him。　The　cloth　that　covered　his　groin　was　only　a　thin　thong　at　the　back；　leaving　nothing　but　a　fine　glitter　over　his　butt。　The　shirt　was　not　attached　to　the　pants；　so　as　he　moved　I　got　glimpses　of　his　stomach。　In　fact　the　shirt　was　loose　enough　through　the　shoulders　that　when　he　took　my　arm　the　shirt　pulled　to　one　side；　revealing　his　smooth；　pale　shoulder。
　The　music　hit　me　at　the　door　like　a　giant's　slap。　It　was　almost　a　wall　we　had　to　move　through。　I　hadn't　expected　Narcissus　in　Chains　to　be　a　dance　club。　But　except　for　the　patrons'　clothing　being　more　exotic　and　running　high　to　leather；　it　looked　like　a　lot　of　other　clubs。　The　place　was　large；　dimly　lit；　dark　in　the　corners；　with　too　many　people　pushed　into　too　small　a　space；　moving　their　bodies　frantically　to　music　that　was　way　too　loud。
　My　hand　tightened　just　a　touch　on　Jason's　arm；　because　truthfully　I　always　feel　a　little　overwhelmed　by　places　like　this。　At　least　for　the　first　few　minutes。　It's　like　I　need　a　depth　chamber　between　the　outside　world　and　the　inside　world；　a　moment　to　breath　deep　and　adjust。　But　these　clubs　are　not　designed　to　give　you　time。　They　just　bombard　you　with　sensory　overload　and　figure　you'll　survive。
　Speaking　of　sensory　overload；　Jean…Claude　was　standing　near　the　wall　just　to　one　side　of　the　dance　floor。　His　long　black　hair　fell　in　soft　curls　around　his　shoulders；　nearly　to　his　waist。　I　didn't　remember　his　hair　being　that　long。　He　had　his　head　turned　away　from　me；　watching　the　dancers；　so　I　couldn't　really　see　his　face；　but　it　gave　me　time　to　look　at　the　rest　of　him。　He　was　dressed　in　a　black　vinyl　shirt　that　looked　poured　on。　It　left　his　arms　bare；　and　I　realized　I'd　never　seen　him　in　anything　that　bared　his　arms　before。　His　skin　looked　unbelievably　white　against　the　shiny　black　vinyl；　almost　as　if　it　glowed　with　some　inner　light。　I　knew　it　didn't；　though　it　could。　Jean…Claude　would　never　be　so　déclassé　as　to　show　such　power　in　a　public　place。　His　pants　were　made　of　the　same　shiny　vinyl；　making　the　long　lines　of　his　body　look　like　they　had　been　dipped　into　liquid　patent　leather。　Vinyl　boots　came　up　just　over　his　knees；　gleaming　as　if　they'd　been　spit　polished。　Everything　about　him　gleamed；　the　dark　glow　of　his　clothes；　the　shining　whiteness　of　his　skin。　Then　abruptly　he　turned　as　if　he　felt　me　gazing　at　him。
　Staring　full　into　his　face；　even　from　across　a　room；　made　me　catch　my　breath。　He　was　beautiful。　That　heartrending　beauty　that　was　masculine　but　treaded　the　line　between　what　was　male　and　what　was　female。　Not　exactly　androgynous；　but　close　to　it。
　But　as　he　moved　towards　me；　the　movement　was　utterly　male；　graceful　as　if　he　heard　music　in　his　head　that　he　quietly　danced　to。　But　the　walk；　the　movement　of　his　shoulders　　women　did　not　move　like　that。
　Jason　patted　my　hand。
　I　jumped；　staring　at　him。
　He　put　his　mouth　close　enough　to　my　ear　to　whisper…shout　above　the　music；　〃Breathe；　Anita；　remember　to　breathe。〃
　I　blushed；　because　that　was　how　Jean…Claude　affected　me　　like　I　was　fourteen　and　was　having　the　crush　of　my　life。　Jason　tightened　his　grip　on　me；　as　if　he　thought　I　might　make　a　run　for　it。　Not　a　bad　idea。　I　looked　back；　and　saw　that　Jean…Claude　was　very　near。　The　first　time　I　saw　the　blue…green　roil　of　the　Caribbean；　I　cried；　because　it　was　so　beautiful。　Jean…Claude　made　me　feel　like　that；　like　I　should　weep　at　his　beauty。　It　was　like　being　offered　an　original　da　Vinci；　not　just　to　hang　on　your　wall　and　admire；　but　to　roll　around　on　top　of。　It　seemed　wrong。　Yet　I　stood　there；　clutching　Jason's　arm；　my　heart　hammering　so　hard　I　almost　couldn't　hear　the　music。　I　was　scared；　but　it　wasn't　knife…in…the…dark　scared；　it　was　rabbit…in…the…headlights　scared。　I　was　caught；　as　I　usually　was　with　Jean…Claude；　between　two　disparate　instincts。　Part　of　me　wanted　to　run　to　him；　to　close　the　distance　and　climb　his　body　and　pull　it　around　me。　The　other　part　wanted　to　run　screaming　into　the　night　and　pray　he　didn't　follow。
　He　stood　in　front　of　me；　but　made　no　move　to　touch　me；　to　close　that　last　small　space。　He　seemed　as　unwilling　to　touch　me　as　I　was　to　touch　him。　Was　he　afraid　of　me？　Or　did　he　sense　my　own　fear　and　fear　he　might　s