cb.imajica1-第41部分
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〃How in hell's name do you suppose they gathered all this stuff up？〃 Charlotte wondered as they walked。
〃I daresay the world was smaller then；〃 Bloxham remarked。 〃They all knew each other； didn't they？ Casanova； Sartori； the te de Saint…Germain。 All fakes and buggers together。〃
〃Fakes？ Do you really think so？〃
〃Most of them；〃 Bloxham said； wallowing in the ill…deserved role of expert。 〃There may have been one or two； I suppose； who knew what they were doing。〃
〃Have you ever been tempted？〃 Charlotte asked him； slipping her arm through the crook of his as they went。
〃To do what？〃
〃To see if any of it's worth a damn。 To try raising a familiar or crossing into the Dominions。〃
He looked at her with genuine astonishment。 〃That's against every precept of the Society；〃 he said。
〃That's not what I asked〃 she replied； almost curtly。 〃I said； Have you ever been tempted？〃
〃My father taught me that any dealings with the Imajica would put my soul in jeopardy。〃
〃Mine said the same。 But I think he regretted not finding out for himself at the end。 I mean； if there's no truth in it； then there's no harm。〃
〃Oh； I believe there's truth in it；〃 Bloxham said。
〃You believe there are other Dominions？〃
〃You saw that damn creature Godolphin cut up in front of us。〃
〃I saw a species I hadn't seen before； that's all。〃 She stopped and arbitrarily plucked a book from the shelves。 〃But I wonder sometimes if the fortress we're guarding isn't empty。〃 She opened the book； and a lock of hair fell from it。 〃Maybe it's all invention；〃 she said。 〃Drug dreams and fancy。〃 She put the book back on the shelf and turned to face Bloxham。 〃Did you really invite me down here to check the security？〃 she murmured。 〃I'm going to be damn disappointed if you did。〃
〃Not entirely；〃 he said。
〃Good；〃 she replied； and wandered on； deeper into the maze。
Though Jude had been invited to a number of New Year's Eve parties； she'd made no firm mitment to attend any of them； for which fact； after the sorrows the day had brought； she was thankful。 She'd offered to stay with Clem once Taylor's body had been taken from the house； but he'd quietly declined； saying that he needed the time alone。 He was forted to know she'd be at the other end of the telephone if he needed her； however； and said he'd call if he got too maudlin。
One of the parties she'd been invited to was at the house opposite her flat； and on the evidence of past years it would raise quite a din。 She'd several times been one of the celebrants there herself； but it was no great hardship to be alone tonight。 She was in no mood to trust the future； if what the New Year brought was more of what the old had offered。
She closed the curtains in the hope that her presence would go undetected； lit some candles； put on a flute concerto； and started to prepare something light for supper。 As she washed her hands； she found that her fingers and palms had taken on a light dusting of color from the stone。 She'd caught herself toying with it several times during the afternoon； and pocketed it； only to find minutes later that it was once again in her hands。 Why the color it had left behind had escaped her until now； she didn't know。 She rubbed her hands briskly beneath the tap to wash the dust off； but when she came to dry them found the color was actually brighter。 She went into the bathroom to study the phenomenon under a more intense light。 It wasn't； as she'd first thought； dust。 The pigment seemed to be in her skin； like a henna stain。 Nor was it confined to her palms。 It had spread to her wrists； where she was sure her flesh hadn't e in contact with the stone。 She took off her blouse and to her shock discovered there were irregular patches of color at her elbows as well。 She started talking to herself； which she always did when she was confounded by something。
〃What the hell is this？ I'm turning blue？ This is ridiculous。〃
Ridiculous； maybe； but none too funny。 There was a crawl of panic in her stomach。 Had she caught some disease from the stone？ Was that why Estabrook had wrapped it up so carefully and hidden it away？
She turned on the shower and stripped。 There were no further stains on her body that she could find； which was some small fort。 With the water seething hot she stepped into the bath； working up a lather and rubbing at the color。 The bination of heat and the panic in her belly was dizzying her； and halfway through scrubbing at her skin she feared she was going to faint and had to step out of the bath again； reaching to open the bathroom door and let in some cooler air。 Her slick hand slid on the doorknob； however； and cursing she reeled around for a towel to wipe the soap off。 As she did so she caught sight of herself in the mirror。 Her neck was blue。 The skin around her eyes was blue。 Her brow was blue； all the way up into her hairline。 She backed away from this grotesquerie； flattening herself against the steam…wetted tiles。
〃This isn't real；〃 she said aloud。
She reached for the handle a second time and wrenched at it with sufficient force to open the door。 The cold brought gooseflesh from head to foot； but she was glad of the chill。 Perhaps it would slap this self…deceit out of her。 Shuddering with cold she fled the reflection； heading back into the candle…lit haven of the living room。 There in the middle of the coffee table lay the piece of blue stone； its eye looking back at her。 She didn't even remember taking it out of her pocket； much less setting it on the table in this studied fashion； surrounded by candles。 Its presence made her hang back at the door。 She was suddenly superstitious of it； as though its gaze had a basilisk's power and could turn her to similar stuff。 If that was its business she was too late to undo it。 Every time she'd turned the stone over she'd met its glance。 Made bold by fatalism； she went to the table and picked the stone up； not giving it time to obsess her again but flinging it against the wall with all the power she possessed。
As it flew from her hand it granted her the luxury of knowing her error。 It had taken possession of the room in her absence； had bee more real than the hand that had thrown it or the wall it was about to strike。 Time was its plaything； and place its toy； and in seeking its destruction she would unknit both。
It was too late to undo the error now。 The stone struck the wall with a loud hard sound； and in that moment she was thrown out of herself； as surely as if somebody had reached into her head； plucked out her consciousness； and pitched it through the window。 Her body remained in the room she'd left； irrelevant to the journey she was about to undertake。 All she had of its senses was sight。 That was enough。 She floated out over the bleak street； shining wet in the lamplight； towards the step of the house opposite hers。 A quartet of party…goers…three young men with a tipsy girl in their midst…was waiting there； one of the youths rapping impatiently on the door。 While they waited the burliest of the trio pressed kisses on the girl； kneading her breasts covertly as he did so。 Jude caught glimpses of the disfort that surfaced between the girl's giggles； saw her hands make vain little fists when her suitor pushed his tongue against her lips； then saw her open her mouth to him； more in resignation than lust。 As the door opened and the four stumbled into the din of celebration； she moved away； rising over the rooftops as she flew and dropping down again to catch glimpses of other dramas unfolding in the houses she passed。
They were all； like the stone that had sent her on this mission； fragments： slivers of dramas she could only guess at。 A woman in an upper room； staring down at a dress laid on a stripped bed； another at a window； tears falling from beneath her closed lids as she swayed to music Jude couldn't hear； yet another rising from a table of glittering guests； sickened by something。 None of them women she knew； but all quite familiar。 Even in her short remembered life she'd felt like all of them at some time or other： forsaken； powerless； yearning。 She began to see the scheme here。 She was going from glimpse to glimpse as if to moments of her life； meeting her reflection in women of every clas
