pzb.lostsouls-第32部分

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he　others　seemed　to　spend　their　time。　The　piles　of　clothes　and　bottles　and　the　heavy；　almost　meaty　smell　made　him　think　they　must　live　in　the　van。　Again；　he　wasn't　plaining。　The　smell　did　not　seem　unpleasant　to　him；　and　the　idea　of　life　in　a　travelling　caravan　was　as　glamorous　as　anything　Nothing　had　ever　dreamed　of。
　　〃Who's　your　friend　in　New　Orleans？〃　Nothing　asked。　But　Twig　didn't　answer　at　all；　and　Molochai　only　mumbled　〃Chrissy〃　through　his　mouthful　of　chocolate　cupcake　and　washed　down　the　sweet　stickiness　with　a　swig　of　strawberry　wine。　Nothing　turned　to　Zillah；　wanting　to　ask　about　New　Orleans；　but　Zillah　met　Nothing's　mouth　with　his　own；　his　tongue　flickering　in　and　out　like　a　snake's。
　　Nothing　clung　to　the　edge；　teetering　happily。　He　was　laboring　under　the　influence　of　more　drugs　than　he'd　ever　had　all　at　once　before。　He　wasn't　exactly　drunk；　and　he　wasn't　exactly　high；　he　simply　floated。　Fucked　up；　Jack　would　have　said…in　that　other　world；　in　that　other　life。　Just　plain　ol'　fucked　up。
　　Zillah　had　claimed　him　immediately；　which　scared　him　a　little　and　excited　him　a　lot。　Zillah　was　a　rougher　and　more　thorough　lover　than　any　of　the　inexperienced　kids　back　home；　He　had　a　purple；　gold；　and　green　streak　in　his　hair…he　said　they'd　been　in　New　Orleans　for　Mardi　Gras　a　while　back…and　he　teased　the　skin　of　Nothing's　stomach　with　it；　flicked　it　over　the　ridges　of　Nothing's　hipbones。　Molochai　and　Twig　stared　at　them；　then　laughed　and　opened　another　bottle　of　wine。
　　An　hour　ago；　sometime　after　midnight；　Twig　had　slumped　over　the　wheel；　and　Molochai　had　had　to　grab　it　and　steer　them　away　from　the　guardrail。　Now　they　were　parked　in　a　field　somewhere　in　southern　Virginia；　or　maybe　already　in　North　Carolina。
　　Nothing　sat　up　and　cleared　a　spot　on　the　foggy　window　with　the　sleeve　of　his　raincoat。　He　saw　rows　and　rows　of　stunted　tobacco　outside。　The　window　was　cold　against　his　hand。　He　put　his　cheek　on　the　glass　and　realized　how　hot　his　face　was；　how　hot　his　whole　body　was。
　　Then　his　stomach　convulsed；　and　he　fumbled　at　the　door　handle。　Molochai　said；　〃Just　puke　on　the　floor；〃　but　Nothing　fell　out　of　the　van　and　rolled　over　the　crackling　dead　tobacco　leaves　and　vomited　copiously　on　the　frosty　earth。　He　choked；　spat；　felt　steam　from　his　vomit　wash　over　his　face。　He　tasted　fried　chicken；　strawberry　wine；　bile。　Dimly　he　became　aware　that　Zillah　was　holding　him；　that　Zillah's　hands　were　smoothing　his　hair　back　from　his　burning　face。
　　Zillah　bent　to　Nothing's　lips　and　licked　away　the　sour　sticky　spit　that　webbed　them；　tenderly　forced　Nothing's　mouth　open；　kissed　Nothing　full　and　deep。
　　〃I　love　you；〃　Nothing　told　Zillah　before　he　knew　what　he　was　going　to　say。　But　Zillah　only　looked　at　him　with　those　glowing　green　eyes；　and　Nothing　thought　he　saw　a　touch　of　amusement　there。
　　Back　in　the　van；　Nothing　expected　howls　of　derision；　in　this　crowd　throwing　up　surely　meant　you　were　a　pussy。　But　Molochai　and　Twig　didn't　laugh　at　him。　They　were　snuggled　down　on　the　mattress；　clutching　each　other　like　children。　Nothing　lit　a　Lucky　but　wrinkled　his　nose　and　pitched　the　cigarette　out　the　window　after　two　drags。
　　〃Still　sick？〃　said　Molochai。　〃I　bet　we　can　make　you　better。〃　A　glance　passed　between　the　three　of　them。　Molochai　dug　under　the　mattress　and　pulled　out　a　wine　bottle　half　full　of　a　dark　liquid；　ruby…brown　and　thicker　than　wine。　The　outside　of　the　bottle　was　covered　with　dried　smears　and　fingerprints　of　the　liquid。　〃Drink　this。　It'll　fix　you　up。〃
　　〃If　it　doesn't　kill　you；〃　Twig　added　with　his　quick　blade　of　a　smile。
　　Nothing　took　the　bottle；　uncapped　it；　lifted　it　to　his　mouth；　and　sipped。　There　was　some　kind　of　liquor…vodka　or　gin；　something　oily　and　stinging…but　mingled　with　that　was　another　taste；　dark　and　sweet　and　a　little　decayed。　Familiar。　He　brought　the　bottle　down；　blinked；　then　lifted　it　again　and　drank　deep。　Molochai；　Twig　and　Zillah　watched　him。　All　three　sat　very　still；　seeming　to　hold　their　breath。　Nothing　stopped　drinking；　licked　his　lips；　and　smiled。
　　〃I　don't　think　drinking　blood　is　so　weird；〃　he　said。
　　At　first　they　only　looked　surprised。　Molochai　and　Twig　were　perhaps　a　little　disappointed；　Nothing　thought　he　saw　a　faint　feral　glow　fading　out　of　their　eyes。　Zillah　raised　his　eyebrows　at　them；　lifted　one　shoulder　in　a　slight　shrug。　The　air　in　the　van　was　thick；　tense；　something　seemed　to　be　passing　between　them；　something　Nothing　could　not　read。　Then　Zillah　laid　his　hand　over　Nothing's　and　pushed　the　bottle　to　Nothing's　lips　again。
　　They　passed　it　around；　drinking　until　the　insides　of　their　mouths　were　stained　rotten　red；　Nothing　no　longer　felt　sick。　He　was　giddy　with　joy；　and　when　Zillah　grabbed　him　again；　he　kissed　back　hard；　then　hooked　his　fingers　through　Zillah's　nipple　rings　and　tugged　gently。
　　〃Do　that　again；　about　three　times　as　hard；〃　sighed　Zillah。　Nothing　plied；　dizzy　with　arousal。　He　could　not　have　imagined　a　better　lover　if　he　had　been　given　the　blueprint。　He　didn't　know　where　the　blood　had　e　from；　whether　it　was　something　they　used　to　scare　outsiders　or　a　taste　they　genuinely　cultivated；　and　right　now　he　didn't　care。　Anyone　who　wanted　to　play　vampire　was　all　right　by　him。
　　
　　Everyone　passed　out　sometime　before　dawn。　Nothing　slept　close　by　Zillah；　his　smooth　cheek　resting　against　Zillah's　arm。　Zillah　watched　him　in　the　darkness；　studied　the　lashes　lying　smudgily　against　the　pale　skin；　the　sweet　lips　parted　in　sleep；　the　breath　from　them　rich　with　wine　and　blood。　He　brushed　a　strand　of　dirty　black　hair　away　from　the　boy's　brow；　traced　the　shape　of　the　boy's　face　with　his　forefinger。　It　was　a　fine　clear　face；　the　delicate　yet　strong　bone　structure　just　beginning　to　emerge　from　the　mask　of　childhood。　He　was　perhaps　the　most　attractive　hitchhiker　they　had　ever　picked　up。　And　what　was　so　strange　about　him？
　　He　had　drunk　from　the　bottle　of　blood　without　choking；　without　spitting　or　gagging。　To　the　contrary…the　blood　had　seemed　to　revive　him；　freshen　his　skin；　brighten　his　eyes。
　　Most　hitchhikers　were　glad　enough　to　party　with　them；　to　share　a　pipe　or　a　tab　of　acid　or　a　tumble　on　the　mattress。　Then…always　after　these　pleasures；　for　it　made　their　blood　sweeter…the　wine　bottle　was　brought　out。　Or　the　whiskey　bottle；　or　whatever　they　had　put　the　latest　batch　in。　This　was　Molochai　and　Twig's　favorite　part：　the　hitchhiker；　already　drunk　or　high　or　fried　on　acid；　would　swig　eagerly　from　the　bottle。　Then　his　eyes…or　her　eyes…would　grow　big　and　frightened；　and　his　mouth…or　her　mouth　would　twist　in　terror　and　disgust　as　the　blood　drooled　back　out　of　it；　and　Molochai；　Twig；　and　Zillah　would　be　upon　him。　Or　her。　One　rescuing　the　wine　bottle；　one　holding　the　hitchhiker's　panicked　hands；　and　one　at　the　throat。　The　sweet；　rended；　pulsing　throat。　Or　the　belly。　Or　the　crotch。　Anywhere　would　do；　any　spot　that　would　bleed。
　　But　none　of　that　had　happened　with　this　boy…Nothing。　Where　had　he　e　by　such　a　name？　And　where　had　he　e　by　a　taste　for　blood？　Again　Zillah　studied　the　dear　sleeping　face；　the　dark　fringe　of　hair　that　fell　across　the　eyes。　This　one　could　stay　around　for　a　few　days。　There　was　magic　in　his　bloodstream；　surely；　but　maybe　a　sort　of　magic　that　should　be　saved　for　a　while。　With　the　tip　of　his　finger　he　touched　Nothing's　lips。　And　in　his　sleep；　Nothing　smiled。
　　
　　The　birth　of　morning　found　them　all　heaped　on　the　mattress；　tangled；　hair　across　faces；　hearts　to　backbones；　hands　clutching　hands。　Zillah　stirred　and　muttered　as　the　first　light　touched　his　eyelids…the　last　ancestral　vestige　of　a　reflex　he　scarcely　remembered；　even　in　his　nightmares。　He　pressed　his　mouth　against　Nothing's　throat。　Then　he　came　half…awake　and；　remembering　that　he　had　decided　to　keep　this　boy；　did　not　bite　but　had　to　suck　like　a　baby　before　he　could　sleep。
　　
　　　Chapter　16
　　
　　Steve　had　awakened　with　a　hellacious　hangover。　This　was　no　rare　occurrence　for　him…usually　he　could　sleep　it　off　or　chew　Excedrin　until　he　felt　better…but　today's　was　a　real　bulldog；　tenacious　and　ugly；　with　pounds　of　power　in　its　drooling　jaws。
　　Now　Ghost　was　trying　to　talk　to　him。　The　guy　had　some　nerve。　Steve　glowered　across　the　kitchen　table。　〃You　want　to　go　where？〃
　　〃Miz　Catlin's。