pzb.lostsouls-第52部分

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　　Molochai　and　Twig　began　whispering　to　each　other。　Christian　heard　a　smothered　giggle。　The　singer　had　been　listening　to　the　exchange；　but　he　was　more　concerned　with　his　friend。　The　girl　seemed　to　be　in　a　world　of　her　own；　slumped　against　the　side　of　the　van；　her　arms　wrapped　around　herself；　her　chin　tucked　into　her　chest。　The　streetlight　was　very　bright　on　her　hair。
　　Christian　looked　up　at　the　moon。　It　hung　gravid　in　the　sky；　nearly　full。　Its　light　was　strong　enough　to　hurt　his　eyes；　and　he　closed　them；　but　still　the　moon　shone　through。　It　shone　down　upon　them　all　there　on　the　sidewalk…Steve；　his　head　in　Ghost's　lap；　furious；　wounded；　defeated；　Zillah；　with　his　sleeping　child　in　his　arms；　Molochai　and　Twig；　clutching　each　other；　still　whispering。
　　And　Ann　alone。　Ann　alone　under　the　moon。　Some　of　Zillah's　seed　was　trickling　out　of　her；　seeping　slow　and　creamy　down　her　thighs。
　　Some…but　not　all。　Inside　Ann；　two　specks　of　life　had　glued　themselves　together；　and　deep　inside　her　where　all　was　raw　and　red　and　wet；　something　came　alive。　A　microdot　of　meat；　part　human；　part　strange。　Nothing's　half…brother；　or　his　half…sister。
　　Steve　shuddered　and　lay　still　again。　Ghost　stroked　his　hair　helplessly。　Nothing　moaned；　beginning　to　surface　from　his　shock；　burrowing　into　his　father's　arms。　The　moon　shone　down；　and　Christian　stared　back　at　it。　And　inside　Ann；　the　infinitesimal　blob　of　meat　stretched　and　began　to　grow。
　　
　　
　　　PART　2
　　
　　　Chapter　21
　　
　　Night。
　　Heavy　green　night；　pine　branches　bending　low　to　sweep　the　gravel　road；　the　dying　grass；　the　trash　in　the　ditches。　Snaky　night；　riotous　with　the　last　October　kudzu。　The　kudzu　would　be　dead　in　another　month；　like　a　dry　brown　blanket　thrown　over　the　trees　and　the　roadsides。　But　now　it　still　writhed　under　the　moon；　succulent；　shifting；　green。　
　　Green　night。　
　　Violin　Road。
　　A　trailer　up　on　cinderblocks；　a　silver　Bel　Air　and　a　sagging　black　van　parked　in　the　scrubby　dirt　yard；　behind　the　trailer　a　tangled　thicket　of　rosebushes　that　would　bear　great　lacy　blossoms　on　into　November。　The　roses　had　gone　wild。
　　Nothing　knew　that　if　he　turned　his　head；　he　would　be　able　to　look　through　the　bedroom　window　and　see　the　spiny　etchwork　of　the　rosebushes　against　the　night　sky。　But　he　didn't　really　want　to　turn　his　head。　Instead　he　lay　very　still；　stretched　out　flat　on　his　back　in　Christian's　bed。　His　hands　moved　through　Christian's　glittering　black　hair；　stroked　the　long　curve　of　Christian's　back。
　　Christian　sighed　and　moved　closer；　nestling　his　head　under　Nothing's　chin；　and　Nothing　felt　a　tiny　sweet　flare　of　pain　as　Christian's　teeth　slid　a　little　deeper　beneath　the　skin　of　his　throat。
　　He　knew　Christian　was　being　careful。　He　knew　Christian　wouldn't　hurt　him；　would　take　only　a　taste　of　his　blood。　This　was　not　feeding；　this　was　lovemaking。　Weren't　Christian's　long　fingers　moving　over　him；　tracing　patterns　on　his　ribs　and　his　thighs；　seeming　to　worship　the　texture　of　his　skin？　Still；　Nothing　had　seen　those　teeth。　They　were　beautiful；　he　envied　them　and　wished　he　might　have　been　born　hundreds　of　years　ago；　before　the　adaptations　of　life　among　humans　caught　up　with　his　race…but　having　to　stay　sober　every　night　of　his　life　would　he　too　great　a　price　even　for　fangs　that　curved　down　over　his　lips　like　hooks　of　ivory。
　　At　first　the　teeth　had　only　pricked　Christian's　lower　lip。　They　lengthened　imperceptibly。　Nothing　looked　into　Christian's　mouth；　but　he　could　not　see　how　it　happened。　They　were　simply　longer　all　of　a　sudden；　like　hooked　needles；　silver…white　and　glistening。　Nothing　felt　those　teeth　hard　against　his　lips　when　Christian　kissed　him；　and　when　he　drew　back　he　tasted　blood。
　　Christian　bit　into　Nothing's　throat　as　gently　as　a　junkie　sliding　a　hypo　into　a　sore　vein；　but　Nothing　still　caught　his　breath　and　shivered　at　the　cold　exquisite　pain。　Then　Christian's　tongue　was　there；　licking　the　blood　away。　Christian　stroked　him；　a　different　touch　from　Zillah's：　slower；　gentler；　less　sure。　They　strained　against　each　other。
　　At　last　Christian's　mouth　unfastened　from　Nothing's　threat；　and　blood　flowed　between　them；　trickling　over　Nothing's　chest；　staining　the　sheets　a　little　more。　Nothing　realized　he　had　been　holding　his　breath。　He　let　it　out　in　a　great　rush。　What　had　he　been　afraid　of？　Christian　wouldn't　hurt　him。　He　was　of　Christian's　kind。
　　Still；　he　hadn't　wanted　to　turn　his　head。
　　〃Nothing；〃　moaned　Christian：　a　breath　of　fading　ecstasy；　borne　on　the　scent　of　blood。　〃O　Nothing。　I　would　like　to　rip　your　throat　open。〃
　　'Thank　you；〃　said　Nothing。　He　knew　this　was　a　pliment。　Then；　after　a　moment：　'Tell　me　about　Jessy　again。〃
　　Christian　sighed。　〃She　looked　like　you。　The　same　great　dark　eyes。　The　same　pointed　chin。　The　same　listening　silence。〃
　　〃You；　um；　you　fucked　her。〃
　　A　pause；　then：　〃Yes。　Many　times　over　a　hot　New　Orleans　summer。
　　〃She　was　sixteen；〃　Nothing　said　thoughtfully。　
　　〃Something　like　that。〃　
　　〃A　year　older　than　me。〃
　　'Yes〃
　　〃How　old　were　you？〃
　　A　pause。　'Three　hundred　and　sixty…eight。〃
　　Nothing　wanted　to　laugh；　but　he　could　not。　The　thought　of　all　those　years　stored　up　in　the　being　who　lay　beside　him；　belly　warm　with　his　blood；　mouth　slick　with　his　spit　。　。　。　no；　he　could　not　laugh。　The　sheer　weight　of　those　years　overwhelmed　him。　He　wondered　how　it　was　for　Christian。　Surely　three　hundred　and　sixty…eight　years　of　feeling　could　not　be　borne。　Had　Christian　stopped　feeling？　Did　he　simply　look　upon　the　world；　watchful；　shutting　out　joy　to　keep　back　the　pain　of　all　the　years？
　　Nothing　pressed　his　face　into　the　pillow。　His　eyes　had　gone　hot　and　wet。　He　kissed　Christian's　throat；　his　mouth。　It　was　just　a　mouth　again；　a　rather　cold　mouth　now；　with　a　dark　sweet　taste　on　the　tongue。　Two　of　the　top　front　teeth　were　unusually　sharp　。　。　。　but　Christian　didn't　smile　much。　Probably　no　one　ever　noticed　those　teeth。
　　〃Will　I　live　that　long？〃　Nothing　asked。
　　〃Perhaps。　If　you're　smarter　than　Molochai　and　Twig；　and　more　cautious　than　Zillah。〃　Christian　stroked　Nothing's　head。　〃I　can　see　the　true　color　of　your　hair　at　the　roots。　Golden…brown。　It　was　that　color　when　you　were　a　baby。〃
　　〃I　need　a　dye　job。〃　Absently　he　twirled　a　piece　of　his　hair；　put　it　in　his　mouth。　Then　he　took　a　deep　breath　and　asked；　〃What's　it　like　to　live　such　a　long　time？〃
　　Christian　didn't　reply。　He　glanced　at　the　window　and　said；　〃I　have　to　leave。　I'm　to　be　at　the　club　at　eleven。〃
　　Nothing　wanted　to　hold　Christian；　to　take　away　those　years；　to　do　something　for　him。　〃I　could　e　with　you；〃　he　said。
　　〃Thank　you；　but　no。　I'll　lose　my　job　if　I　keep　slipping　you　drinks。　You　stay　here　with　the　others。　When　they　wake　up　they'll　want　to　go　out。〃　Christian　stepped　into　a　pair　of　impossibly　long　black　trousers；　buttoned　a　black　shirt　up　to　his　chin。　He　turned　to　go。　At　the　bedroom　door　he　paused。
　　〃Christian？〃　said　Nothing。
　　〃I　would　not　wish　it　upon　anyone；〃　Christian　told　him。　He　disappeared　into　the　dark　recesses　of　the　trailer。　A　moment　later　Nothing　heard　the　front　door　close。　Then　the　Bel　Air　was　grinding　out　of　the　driveway；　heading　down　Violin　Road　toward　town。
　　Nothing　lay　among　the　cool　tangled　sheets；　staring　at　the　rags　of　mist　that　drifted　past　the　window　and　obscured　the　rosebushes。　For　a　while　he　played　with　his　damp　pubic　hair；　uncurling　strands　of　it；　gently　tugging　at　them；　letting　them　spring　back。　It　wasn't　often　he　had　a　bed　to　himself　anymore。　Usually　he　slept　in　a　sweaty　knot　of　blankets；　hair；　limbs。　He　would　wake　to　find　Molochai's　fingers　in　his　mouth　or　drooling　on　his　pillow。　Often　he　woke　to　the　perverse；　sometimes　scatological　endearments　that　Zillah　liked　to　murmur　in　his　ear。　So　he　relished　this　bit　of　privacy。　He　lay　and　let　his　mind　drift　where　it　would。
　　How　old　was　Christian　now？　He　calculated　and　came　up　with　three　hundred　and　eighty…three　years。　Nothing's　mind　tried　to　balk　at　the　thought　of　all　those　years；　but　he　would　not　let　it。　No；　he　told　himself。　You　might　be　that　old　yourself　someday；　so　think　about　it。
　　That　was　so　much　time。　Unless　you　found　others　of　your　kind；　others　who　lived　as　long；　you　were　bound　to　spend　a　lot　of　that　time　alone。　Others…he　m