pzb.lostsouls-第68部分

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hen　Ghost　had　e　slamming　into　the　room；　Arkady's　heart　melted　for　the　child　standing　there　trembling　in　that　enormous　shirt　that　made　him　look　so　terribly　young。　He　had　wanted　to　hold　out　his　arms　to　Ghost　。。。。
　　Why　deceive　himself？　He　had　wanted　to　bewitch　Ghost　and　lure　him　into　bed；　to　drive　him　pleasure…mad；　to　drown　him　in　a　sea　of　silk　sheets　and　feather　pillows。　It　wasn't　as　if　he　meant　to　seduce　the　boy…but　might　they　not　offer　each　other　a　night　of　creature　fort；　a　night　of　panionship？　Ghost　would　not　have　to　lie　awake　beside　his　poor　drunken　friend；　pondering　fate；　bloody　births；　lost　souls。　Arkady　would　not　have　to　sit　up　all　night　tracing　useless　veves　by　candlelight；　hoping　for　things　he　might　never　attain。　Hoping　to　look　up　and　see　the　beautiful　proud　face　of　his　brother　Ashley　floating　outside　the　window；　begging　admission　with　those　eyes。　Hoping　to　discover　a　way　to　hurt　Ashley's　lovers；　those　two　lovely　dangerous　creatures　who　would　surely　destroy　him　someday。
　　Arkady　thought　of　what　those　creatures　had　done　to　Ashley。　Might　that　story　not　win　Ghost's　sympathy　at　least？　The　tranquilizing　powder　had　made　Ghost's　body　somnolent；　sapped　the　strength　from　his　muscles；　but　his　mind　would　still　be　alert。　Absently　caressing　Ghost's　rigid　shoulder；　Arkady　began　to　tell　the　tale。
　　〃They　gave　you　a　bad　scare；　Ghost；　did　they　not？　In　the　guest　room。　In　the　closet。　Ah；　but　you　were　snooping。　You　should　never　have　looked　in　there…not　with　your　gift。　Not　with　that　shining　eye　in　your　heart。　They　are　far　too　strong；　far　too　heady　for　one　who　feels　things　as　you　do。　They　are　not　even　in　that　room；　Ghost。　Not　tonight；　though　they　will　be　back　in　the　morning；　or　the　next　morning；　or　the　one　after　that。　Who　knows？　The　Lord…〃　Arkady　crossed　himself　with　his　free　hand；　upside　down　then　right　side　up…〃the　Lord　alone　knows　where　they　are　tonight。　What　strange　new　substances　they　have　swallowed　or　sniffed　or　shot　into　their　perfect　ruby　veins；　or　whom　they　have　found　to　love。　
　　〃Whom　they　have　found　to　love。
　　〃They　leave　their　essence　everywhere　they　go。　It　must　be　dreadfully　strong　in　that　closet　where　they　throw　their　dirty　clothes；　the　clothes　full　of　their　sweat；　their　smoke；　their　sweet　clove…scented　ectoplasm。　Did　that　drift　out　at　you；　Ghost？　Do　they　know　you；　perchance？　Have　you　met？　Or　did　they　just　speak　to　you　as　one　lost　soul　to　another？　Ah；　but　you　must　not　be　afraid　of　them。　To　you　they　are　as　harmless　as　a　forgotten　song　on　an　antique　record。　To　you　they　are　as　harmless　as　a　rotting　old　gravestone。　It　is　me　they　can　hurt。　It　was　Ashley　they　could　hurt；　and　whoever　they　have　found　to　share　their　deadly　ecstasy　tonight。
　　〃That　is　what　they　want；　Ghost。　Nay…that　is　what　they　need；　for　they　feed　upon　your　pleasure　and　your　terror　and　your　pain。　They　must　terrify　you；　as　they　do　the　children　who　are　their　victims；　they　must　enter　your　dreams　and　give　you　a　nightmare　so　horrible　that　you　never　awaken　from　it。　But　their　greatest　pleasure　is　not　to　terrify…it　is　to　bewitch。　They　want　you　to　love　them；　it　makes　the　final　moment　of　betrayal　sweeter。　They　must　e　to　you　in　the　flesh　and　make　love　with　you。　They　must　lure　you　down　onto　some　ancient　stained　mattress；　or　beneath　a　silken　coverlet；　or　into　an　alley　where　they　will　kneel　before　you　in　the　filth。　You　must　bee　addicted　to　their　spit；　you　must　breathe　their　scent　until　you　are　intoxicated。
　　〃Only　then　will　they　consummate　their　love　for　you　as　they　did　for　Ashley…by　sucking　you　dry。　By　taking　every　drop　of　your　beauty；　your　youth；　the　fire　that　drives　you。　By　leaving　you　a　husk；　a　dry；　living　shell。　As　they　did　to　my　brother　Ashley。
　　〃I　found　him　when　I　returned　home　from　Paris　at　the　end　of　that　long　dying　winter。　We　had　been　living　in　a　church　down　by　Bayou　St。　John；　an　abandoned　place。　Ashley　hanged　himself　in　the　bell　tower。　He　had　no　choice；　truly；　Ashley　was　born　with　a　healthy　dose　of　the　Raventon　dramatic　flair。　He　hung　there　for　a　week　before　I　came　home。　He　knew　I　would　be　back…I　never　broke　a　promise　to　Ashley…but　he　could　not　wait。
　　〃When　I　cut　his　body　down；　I　saw　why。　It　was　as　dry　and　twisted　as　a　mandrake　root。　Ashley　had　been　dead　seven　days；　but　nothing　in　him　had　rotted　except　his　eyes　and　his　tongue。　There　was　nothing　else　left　to　rot　they　had　sucked　all　his　juices　out。　He　rustled　in　my　arms　as　I　cut　the　rope；　and　when　I　lifted　him　down　and　laid　him　on　the　floor　of　the　bell　tower；　he　rattled　like　a　sack　full　of　bones。　His　mouth　was　stretched　open；　his　lips　were　bloodless；　pulled　away　from　his　teeth。　Teeth　that　had　gone　the　color　of　old　ivory。　Far　back　in　his　head；　his　tongue　lay　withered。　His　hair　was　colorless；　drifting。　And　his　eyes…the　eyes　I　wanted　to　die　for　when　they　tilted　up　to　meet　mine…those　eyes　。　。　。　they　were　gone。　Those　eyes　were　gone；　and　Ashley　looked　at　me　out　of　the　darkness　of　his　shrivelled　brain；　and　his　face　flaked　away　when　I　touched　it。
　　〃His　lovers　were　still　there；　living　on　the　top　floor　of　the　church；　burning　incense　to　mask　the　faint　smell　of　Ashley's　decay。　For　seven　days　they　had　let　him　hang　with　his　face　sifting　to　dust　and　his　eyes　moldering。　When　I　descended　from　the　bell　tower　cradling　Ashley's　skull　the　flesh　fell　away　from　it　as　easily　as　old　crumbling　parchment…they　were　making　love　on　a　dirty　mattress　they　had　dragged　in。　Biting　throats；　clutching　hands；　laughing　and　sobbing　with　their　pleasure。　I　sat　with　Ashley　in　my　arms　and　waited　for　them　to　finish。　At　last　one　of　them　looked　up　at　me　and　said　It　was　easy　for　him；　Arkady。　As　easy　as　breathing。　And　the　other　one　told　me；　Death　is　easy。　You　should　know　that；　Arkady。　Death　is　easy。〃
　　Ghost　had　been　drifting　back　to　sleep；　his　head　pillowed　on　his　arms；　dreaming　the　story　more　than　hearing　it；　his　mind　filling　with　pictures　of　the　boy's　withered　body　on　the　long…ago　roadside；　the　giant　oak　tree　up　on　the　hill；　the　final　image　of　his　dream　in　the　car　that　had　frightened　him　so　badly…the　twins　lying　side　by　side　on　the　stained　mattress；　their　skin　drying　and　cracking；　their　beauty　spent。　Now　he　looked　up　and　said　sleepily；　〃Death　is　easy？〃
　　Somehow；　Arkady　sensed；　those　words　were　familiar　to　Ghost。　But　he　smoothed　pale　strands　of　hair　from　Ghost's　brow；　and　Ghost　let　his　head　sink　back　down。
　　Perhaps　Ghost　really　would　stay　with　him　tonight。　Perhaps　Ghost　wanted　to　drown　in　this　bed。　Surely　such　a　thing　was　possible。　Ashley　was　the　beauty　of　the　Raventons；　to　be　sure；　but　Arkady　too　possessed　the　high　clear　forehead　and　the　sharp　proud　cheekbones；　if　not　the　sparkling　burgundy　hair　or　the　unbelievable　eyes；　those　depthless　eyes。　Perhaps　Ghost　wanted　to　sigh　in　Arkady's　arms；　to　writhe　and　moan　beneath　the　ministration　of　Arkady's　lips。　It　had　been　so　very　long。
　　The　twins　could　still　lure　Arkady　into　their　bed　on　occasion；　because　they　were　beautiful　and　he　was　alone。　But　he　hated　them　for　what　they　had　done　to　Ashley；　and　he　was　afraid　of　the　hold　they　already　had　upon　him。　And　there　was　no　one　else。　Not　until　now；　not　until　this　nervous　magical　Ghost…child　with　the　pale　blue　eyes；　the　ragged　clothes　from　some　fantastic　thrift　shop；　the　translucent　hair　that　fell　across　his　eyes　as　he　slept。
　　〃Asleep；　Ghost？〃　Arkady　whispered。　〃Perhaps　not　yet。〃　He　bent　and　kissed　the　corner　of　Ghost's　eye　as　lightly　as　he　would　have　plucked　a　spider　from　its　web　to　dry　and　grind　for　gris…gris。　His　tongue　flickered　across　the　silken　scrap　of　Ghost's　eyelashes；　then　slid　down　Ghost's　cheek　and　sought　passage　between　those　exquisite　lips。
　　Every　nerve　in　Ghost's　body　seemed　to　e　instantly　alive；　tensing；　uncoiling。　He　flew　off　the　bed　backward　and　landed　in　front　of　the　door；　back　pressed　flat　against　the　wood；　chin　lifted　and　nostrils　flared　wide。　Even　his　eyelids　seemed　to　tremble。　His　eyes　met　Arkady's　and　locked　there；　large　and　seared；　aglow　with　pale　blue　fire。
　　Arkady　held　the　look　for　a　long　moment。　Then　he　let　his　gaze　flick　to　the　window；　and　he　lifted　one　bony　shoulder　in　a　tiny；　unconcerned　shrug。
　　〃She'll　die；　Ghost。　Unless　that　foetus　es　out　soon；　its　growth　will　be　too　far　gone。　This　is　no　vulnerable　morsel　of　meat　to　be　scraped　out　by　any　back…alley　abortionist　with　a　curette　and　a　roll　of　dirty　cotton