cpike.thelastvampire-第4部分

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so　quick　or　strong　during　the　day；　although　I　am　still　more　than　a　match　for　any　mortal。　I　do　not　enjoy　the　day　as　much　as　the　night。　I　love　the　blurred　edges　of　darker　landscapes。　Sometimes　I　dream　of　visiting　Pluto。
　Yet　the　next　day　I　am　busy　at　dawn。　First　I　call　the　three　businessmen　responsible　for　handling　my　accounts…each　located　on　a　different　continent…　and　tell　them　I　am　displeased　to　learn　that　my　finances　have　been　examined。　I　listen　to　each　protestation　of　innocence　and　detect　no　falsehood　in　their　voices。　My　admiration　for　Mr。　Riley's　detecting　abilities　climbs　a　notch。　He　must　have　used　subtle　means　to　delve　into　my　affairs。
　Or　else　he'd　had　help。
　Of　course　I　know　he　had　help；　but　I　also　believe　he　turned　against　the　man　who　sent　him　to　find　me。　When　he　realized　how　rich　I　was；　he　must　have　thought　that　he　could　score　more　handsomely　by　going　after　me　directly。　That　leads　me　to　suspect　that　whoever　hired　Riley　does　not　know　the　exact　details　of　my　life；　where　I　live　and　such。　But　I　also　realize　he　will　notice　Riley's　disappearance　and　e　looking　for　whoever　killed　him。　I　have　time；　I　believe；　but　not　much。　By　nature；　I　prefer　to　be　the　hunter；　not　the　hunted。　Yes；　indeed；　I　vow；　I　will　kill　those　who　hired　Riley　as　surely　as　I　wiped　him　from　the　face　of　the　earth。
　I　make　arrangements；　through　my　American　businessman；　to　be　enrolled　at　Mayfair　High　that　very　day。　The　wheels　are　set　in　motion　and　suddenly　I　have　a　new　identity。　I　am　Lara　Adams；　and　my　guardian；　Mrs。　Adams；　will　visit　the　school　with　my　transcripts　and　enroll　me　in　as　many　of　Ray　Riley's　classes　as　possible。　It　has　not　taken　me　long　to　learn　the　son's　name。　The　arm　of　my　influence　is　as　long　as　the　river　of　blood　I　have　left　across　history。　I　will　never　meet　this　fake　Mrs。　Adams；　and　she　will　never　meet　me；　unless　she　should　talk　about　her　efforts　on　Lara's　behalf。　Then；　if　that　happens；　she　will　never　talk　again。　My　associates　respect　my　desire　for　silence。　I　pay　them　for　that　respect。
　That　night　I　am　restless；　thirsty。　How　often　do　I　need　to　drink　blood？　I　begin　to　crave　it　after　a　week's　time。　If　a　month　goes　by　I　can　think　of　nothing　other　than　my　next　dripping　throat。　I　also　lose　some　strength　if　I　go　too　long。　But　I　do　not　die　without　it；　at　feast　not　readily。　I　have　gone　for　as　long　as　six　months　without　drinking　human　blood。　I　only　drink　animal　blood　if　I　am　desperate。　It　is　only　when　I　feed　from　a　human　that　I　feel　truly　satisfied；　and　I　believe　it　is　the　life　force　in　the　blood　that　makes　me　hunger　for　it　more　than　the　physical　fluid　itself。　I　do　not　know　how　to　define　the　life　force　except　to　say　that　it　exists：　the　feel　of　the　beating　heart　when　I　have　a　person's　vein　in　my　mouth；　the　heat　of　their　desires。　The　life　force　in　an　animal　is　of　a　much　cruder　density。　When　I　suck　on　a　human；　it　is　as　if　I　absorb　a　portion　of　the　person's　essence；　their　will。　It　takes　a　lot　of　willpower　to　live　for　fifty　centuries。
　Humans　do　not　turn　into　vampires　after　I　bite　them。　Nor　do　they　change　into　one　if　they　drink　my　blood。　Blood　that　is　drunk　goes　through　the　digestive　tract　and　is　broken　down　into　many　parts。　I　do　not　know　how　the　legends　started　that　oral　exchange　could　bring　about　the　transformation。　I　can　only　make　another　vampire　by　exchanging　blood　with　the　person；　and　not　just　a　little　blood。　My　blood　has　to　overwhelm　the　other　person's　system　before　he　or　she　bees　immortal。
　Of　course；　I　do　not　make　vampires　these　days。
　I　drive　south　along　the　coast。　I　am　in　Northern　California　before　I　stop；　it　is　late。　There　is　a　bar　off　the　side　of　the　road；　fairly　large。　I　make　a　smooth　entrance。　The　men　look　me　over；　exchange　glances　with　their　buddies。　The　bartender　does　not　ask　me　for　my　ID；　not　after　I　give　him　a　hard　glance。　There　are　many　more　men　than　women　around。　I　am　searching　for　a　particular　type；　someone　passing　through；　and　I　spot　a　candidate　sitting　alone　in　the　er。　He　is　big　and　burly；　unshaven；　his　warm　jacket　is　not　dirty；　but　there　are　oil　stains　that　did　not　e　out　from　the　last　cleaning。　His　face　is　pleasant　enough；　sitting　behind　his　frosty　beer；　but　a　tad　lonely。　He　is　a　long…distance　truck　driver；　I　know　the　type。　I　have　often　drunk　from　their　veins。
　I　sit　down　in　front　of　him；　and　he　looks　up　in　surprise。　I　smile；　the　expression　can　disarm　as　well　as　alarm；　but　he　is　happy　to　see　me。　He　orders　me　a　beer　and　we　talk。　I　do　not　ask　if　he　is　married…though　it　is　obvious　he　is…and　he　does　not　bring　it　up。　After　a　while　we　leave　and　he　takes　me　to　a　motel；　although　I　would　have　been　satisfied　with　the　back　of　his　truck。　I　tell　him　as　much；　but　he　pats　my　leg　and　shakes　his　head。　He　is　a　gentleman。　I　won't　kill　him。
　It　is　while　he　is　undressing　me　that　I　bite　into　his　neck。　The　act　makes　him　sigh　with　pleasure　and　lean　his　head　back；　he　is　not　really　sure　what　I　am　doing。　He　stays　in　that　position　the　whole　time　I　drink；　hypnotized　with　the　sensation；　which　to　him　feels　as　if　he　is　being　caressed　from　the　inside　out…with　the　tip　of　my　nails。　Which　to　me　feels　like　it　always　does；　sweet　and　natural；　as　natural　as　making　love。　But　I　do　not　have　sex　with　him。　Instead；　I　bite　the　tip　of　my　own　tongue　and　let　a　drop　of　my　blood　fall　onto　his　wounds。　They　heal　instantly；　leaving　no　scar；　and　I　lay　him　down　to　rest。　I　have　drunk　a　couple　pints。　He　will　sleep　deep；　maybe　wake　up　with　a　slight　headache：
　〃Forget；〃　I　whisper　in　his　ear。
　He　won't　remember　me。　They　seldom　do。
　The　next　morning　I　sit　in　Mr。　Castro's　history　class。　My　cream…colored　dress　is　fashionable；　on　the　rich　side；　the　embroidered　hem　swings　four　inches　above　my　knees。　I　have　very　nice　legs　and　do　not　mind　showing　them　off。　My　long　wavy　blond　hair　hangs　loose　on　my　shoulders。　I　wear　no　makeup　or　jewelry。　Ray　Riley　sits　off　to　my　right；　and　I　study　him　with　interest。　Class　will　begin　in　three　minutes。
　His　face　has　a　depth　his　father's　never　imagined。　He　is　cut　in　the　mode　of　many　handsome　modern　youths；　with　curly　brown　hair　and　a　chiseled　profile。　Yet　his　inner　character　pushes　through　his　natural　beauty　and　almost　makes　a　mockery　of　it。　The　boy　is　already　more　man　than　boy。　It　shows　in　his　brown　eyes；　soft　but　quick；　in　his　silent　pauses；　as　he　takes　in　what　his　classmates　say。　He　reflects　on　it；　and　either　accepts　or　rejects　it；　not　caring　what　the　others　think。　He　is　his　own　person；　Ray　Riley；　and　I　like　that　about　him。
　He　talks　to　a　girl　on　his　right。　Her　name　is　Pat；　and　she　is　clearly　his　girlfriend。　She　is　a　scrawny　thing；　but　with　a　smile　that　lights　up　whenever　she　looks　at　Ray。　Her　manner　is　assertive　but　not　pushy；　simply　full　of　life。　Her　hands　are　always　busy；　often　touching　him。　I　like　her　as　well　and　wonder　if　she　is　going　to　be　an　obstacle。　For　her　sake；　I　hope　not。　I　honestly　prefer　not　to　kill　young　people。　Pat's　clothes　are　simple；　a　blouse　and　jeans。　I　suspect　her　family　has　little　money。　But　Ray　is　dressed　sharp。　It　makes　me　think　of　the　million　I　offered　his　father。　Ray　does　not　appear　upset。　Probably　his　father　often　disappears　for　days　at　a　time。
　I　clear　my　throat　and　he　looks　over　at　me。
　〃Hello；〃　he　says。　〃Are　you　new？〃
　〃Hi；〃　I　say。　〃Yes。　I　just　checked　in　this　morning。〃　I　offer　my　dainty　hand。　〃My　name's　Lara　Adams。〃
　〃Ray　Riley。〃　He　shakes　my　hand。　His　touch　is　warm；　his　blood　healthy。　I　can　smell　blood　through　people's　skin　and　tell　if　they　have　any　serious　ailments…even　years　before　the　disease　manifests。　Ray　continues　to　stare　at　me；　and　I　bat　my　long　lashes。　Behind　him　Pat　has　stopped　talking　to　another　classmate　and　looks　over。　〃Where　are　you　from？〃　he　asks。
　〃Colorado。〃
　〃Really？　You　have　a　slight　accent。〃
　His　ment　startles　me　because　I　am　a　master　at　accents。　〃What　accent　do　you　hear？〃　I　ask；　genuinely　curious。
　〃I　don't　know。　English；　French…it　sounds　like　a　bination。〃
　I　have　lived　in　both　England　and　France　for　extended　periods　of　time。　〃I　have　traveled　a　lot；〃　I　say。　〃Maybe　that's　what　you　hear。〃
　〃Must　be。〃　He　gestures　to　his　side。　〃Lara；　this　is　my　girlfriend；　Pat　McQueen。　Pat；　meet　Lara　Adams。〃
　Pat　nods。　〃Hi；　Lara。〃　Her　manner　is　not　the　least　defensive。　She　trusts　in　Ray's　love；　and　in　her　own。
　That　is　going　to　change。　I　think　of　Riley's　puter；　which　I　have　left　in　his　offic