pzb.lostsouls-第67部分

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　　What　was　getting　her　through　this　night？　And　what　would　get　her　through　all　the　nights　yet　to　e；　as　the　poison　fetus　grew　inside　her？
　　Ghost　sat　up　and　swung　his　legs　over　the　side　of　the　bed。　He　caught　a　whiff　of　himself。　His　clothes　were　as　dirty　as　Steve's；　though　not　as　beer…stained；　they　had　only　the　things　they'd　been　wearing　when　they　took　off　for　New　Orleans。　Tomorrow　they　would　have　to　go　and　buy　a　couple　of　fresh　T…shirts。　Something　classy；　like　the　oyster　bar　shirts　that　said　SHUCK　ME；　SUCK　ME；　EAT　ME　RAW。
　　The　wooden　floor　was　cold。　Moonlight　dappled　Ghost's　feet。　He　stood　up　slowly；　easing　his　weight　off　the　mattress；　trying　not　to　wake　Steve。　There　wasn't　much　chance　of　Steve　waking　up；　though。　Earlier　tonight　Steve　had　declared　his　intention　to　drink　a　pitcher　of　Dixie　beer　in　every　bar　on　Bourbon　Street。　When　they　didn't　have　Dixie；　he　settled　for　Bud。　As　far　as　Ghost　could　recall；　they　had　gotten　about　halfway　before　he　was　able　to　drag　Steve　back　to　the　room　and　dump　him　into　bed。
　　Ghost　had　had　his　share　of　those　pitchers　too。　He　was　still　swaying　a　little。　He　steadied　himself　against　the　doorjamb　and　crossed　the　threshold　into　the　hall。
　　He　and　Steve　had　the　first　room　at　the　top　of　the　stairs。　Next　to　that　was　the　room　belonging　to　Arkady's　mysterious　guests；　beyond　that　was　the　bathroom；　where　Ghost　was　headed；　and　at　the　end　of　the　hall　was　Arkady's　bedroom。
　　As　Ghost　passed　the　open　door　of　the　second　room；　he　saw　moonlight　filtering　in　through　a　dirty　window。　The　cold　glow　spilled　over　the　rumpled　sheets　and　blankets　on　the　bed；　made　the　floorboards　gleam；　threw　the　closet　door　into　shadow　so　that　Ghost　couldn't　tell　whether　it　was　open　or　shut。　At　the　foot　of　the　bed；　drooping　halfway　to　the　floor；　a　small　twisted　shape　hung。
　　Ghost's　breath　caught　in　his　throat。　As　he　stared　at　the　shape；　it　seemed　to　twitch。　Ghost　took　two　quick　steps　backward。　Were　the　occupants　of　this　room　really　the　ones　who　had　killed　Ashley？　Could　Arkady　be　that　perverse？　Was　the　twisted　shape　another　of　their　victims；　a　child　with　all　the　life　sucked　out　of　it；　hanging　bonelessly？　Or　was　it　some　voodoo　creation　of　Arkady's；　some　dried　effigy　that　would　e　to　life　and　jerk　toward　him　in　a　horrible　parody　of　dance？
　　Ghost　stood　in　the　doorway　a　moment　longer；　pulling　his　hair　over　his　face；　staring　through　its　pale　curtain　into　the　room。　He　didn't　want　to　know　what　the　shape　was。　He　wanted　to　pull　the　door　shut；　go　on　down　the　hall　to　the　bathroom；　and　get　back　to　bed。　With　Steve　asleep　beside　him；　he　would　not　be　afraid。
　　But　he　had　to　know　what　was　going　on　here；　whether　this　was　a　safe　place　or　not。　Before　he　could　think　about　it　any　more；　he　made　himself　walk　to　the　foot　of　the　bed　and　prod　the　shape　with　one　finger。
　　A　pillow；　wadded　into　a　hard　little　knot。　That　was　all　it　was。　For　a　second　he　was　glad　Steve　was　in　the　other　room　passed　out；　not　here　to　see　him　getting　spooked　over　a　pillow。　Then　he　wished　Steve　were　here；　even　though　he　knew　Steve　would　call　him　a　pussy。　Steve　hadn't　been　laughing　at　much　of　anything　these　days。　Even　tonight。　Usually　when　they　went　on　a　real　bender；　they　would　start　remembering　stuff　they　had　done　when　they　were　kids；　making　stupid　jokes；　imitating　each　other。　〃Fuckin'　shit；　Steve；　you　sure　are　sucking　down　that　fuckin'　brew；〃　Ghost　would　say；　and　Steve　would　reply　imperturbably；　〃Yeah；　but　I　can　feel　the　spirit　of　the　beer　inside　me。〃
　　But　tonight　Steve　had　swilled　his　beer　silently；　staring　into　its　golden　depths；　at　the　mirror　behind　the　bar；　at　the　colored　lights　out　on　Bourbon　Street。　When　he　met　Ghost's　eyes；　he　would　not　hold　the　gaze。　But　before　Steve　looked　away；　Ghost　had　seen　stark　terror　in　his　eyes。
　　Ghost　picked　up　the　pillow　and　smoothed　it　out。　As　he　was　about　to　toss　it　back　onto　the　bed；　he　saw　the　strands　of　hair　clinging　to　the　linen。　He　picked　a　few　of　them　off　they　were　brittle；　translucent…and　held　them　up　to　the　moonlight；　trying　to　see　their　color。　Some　of　the　strands　were　clear　ruby…red。　Some　were　bright　bleachy　yellow。　Neither　color　looked　natural。
　　Over　to　his　right；　the　closet　door　creaked　and　swung　halfway　open。
　　Ghost　looked　at　it；　his　head　lifted　high；　his　nostrils　flaring　a　little。　The　door　was　tauntingly　still；　trying　to　pretend　it　had　been　halfway　open　all　the　time。　Trying　to　pretend　a　sudden　gust　from　nowhere　had　swept　through　the　room。　Trying　to　pretend　the　floor　wasn't　level　and　it　had　just　happened　to　swing　open　while　Ghost　was　standing　there　alone　in　the　middle　of　the　night。
　　Ghost　wasn't　fooled。　He　moved　toward　the　closet　and　put　his　hand　on　the　knob。　When　no　one　twisted　it　from　the　other　side；　he　yanked　the　door　wide　open。
　　For　one　terrible　second　he　thought　something　was　drifting　toward　him；　some　bright　many…armed　wraith。　Then　he　saw　that　the　closet　was　haunted　only　by　clothes；　strange；　beautiful　clothes　of　colored　silk。　Were　they　dresses？　Shirts？　Ghost　took　a　sea…green　sleeve　between　his　thumb　and　his　forefinger；　rubbing　the　slippery　sensuous　cloth；　wondering。　Loose　hangers　kissed　softly　against　each　other。
　　Who　wore　these　rich　clothes？　He　pulled　a　swath　of　rose…colored　silk　toward　him　and　buried　his　nose　in　its　cool　depths。　The　cloth　was　saturated　with　the　smells　of　strawberry　incense；　of　clove　cigarettes；　of　wine；　of　tangy　sweat。
　　The　smells　drew　him　in。
　　And　as　he　breathed　the　heady　melange；　a　voice　whispered　to　him　from　the　depths　of　the　closet：　〃Ghost。。。　easy。。。
　　He　was　never　sure　how　he　got　out　of　the　room　and　made　a　wrong　turn　down　the　hall。　Maybe　he　meant　to　go　racing　back　to　his　room；　maybe　he　meant　to　lock　himself　in　the　bathroom　and　stay　there　all　night。　He　never　meant　to　barge　into　Arkady's　bedroom…that　much　was　certain。　But　all　at　once　there　he　was；　and　there　was　Arkady　burning　a　candle　on　his　nightstand；　playing　with　several　little　heaps　of　colored　powder　on　a　white　plate；　pushing　them　into　intricate　convoluted　patterns　of　arrows；　curlicues；　lines；　and　crosses。
　　When　Ghost　slammed　into　the　room　and　leaned　panting　against　the　door；　Arkady　looked　up　and　smiled。　All　the　colored　powders　fell　back　in　a　bright　spray　across　the　plate。　〃What　a　lovely　surprise；〃　said　Arkady。　〃Well。　Not　precisely　a　surprise；　since　I　heard　you　ing　down　the　hall。　But　I　am　ever　so　pleased　to　see　you　nonetheless。〃
　　
　　First；　Arkady　made　Ghost　swallow　a　tranquilizing　powder。　Ghost　didn't　want　it；　but　in　the　end　it　was　easy　to　make　him　swallow　it：　Arkady　just　slipped　inside　Ghost's　mind　and　pushed。　Usually　he　would　not　have　tried　such　a　thing　on　a　sensitive　as　powerful　as　Ghost；　but　the　boy　was　terrified　and　exhausted。　It　was　easy。
　　Then　he　made　Ghost　tell　his　tale：　the　whole　thing；　vampires　and　all。　It　was　more　convoluted　and　full　of　pain　than　Arkady　could　have　guessed。　Ghost's　hands　twitched　all　the　way　through　the　telling；　he　tugged　his　pale　hair　over　his　eyes；　and　more　than　once　Arkady　heard　a　sob　catch　in　his　throat。
　　At　last　Ghost　fell　silent。　He　tried　to　remain　sitting；　but　his　head　kept　drooping　and　his　eyes　threatened　to　slip　shut。　Arkady　saw　Ghost's　hands　clenching　into　loose　fists：　the　poor　boy　was　trying　to　will　himself　to　stay　awake。
　　With　a　light　finger　Arkady　touched　Ghost's　lips；　those　lovely　lips　so　pale；　so　delicately　lined；　tucked　in　at　the　corners　with　worry　and　fear。　Under　his　touch　he　felt　Ghost's　lips　tighten。　Ghost　was　exhausted；　nearly　asleep；　most　likely　he　did　not　know　who　touched　him。　Nevertheless；　Arkady　imagined　how　it　would　be　to　slide　his　finger　between　those　lips；　to　stroke　the　pink　rag　of　a　tongue；　to　be　surrounded　by　the　wet　warmth　of　Ghost's　mouth。　He　wondered　how　it　would　be　to　taste　Ghost's　sweet　spit。　Poor　boy；　he　thought　again。　Poor　lost　boys；　both　of　them。　One　trying　to　drown　his　fear　in　a　bottle；　and　the　other　this　beautiful　child…trying　to　confront　it　all　alone。
　　〃Poor　boy；〃　murmured　Arkady。　〃You　are　very　brave；　Ghost。　Dreadfully；　achingly　brave。〃　He　stroked　the　smooth　curve　of　Ghost's　throat；　feeling　the　flesh　shudder　beneath　his　touch；　then　let　his　fingers　stray　between　the　neckband　of　the　voluminous　tie…dyed　shirt　Ghost　wore。　When　Ghost　had　e　slamming　into　the　room；　Arkady's　heart　melted　for　the　child　standing　there　tremb