pzb.lostsouls-第13节
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se of sadistic Madame Lalaurie； where else could one still smell the lingering sweat of a slave woman chained to a stove all the years of her life？ Where else did crows flap over the crumbling ruins of St。 Louis Cemetery and settle； inky and baleful of eye； on a tomb slashed with hundreds of red X's…X's in faded crimson chalk； X's still flesh and glistening； X's for voodoo curses； X's to invoke the wrath of Marie Laveau； the voodoo queen who had stayed young forever？
Christian passed a dark doorway。 Inside； pale shapes moved through dull blue light。 He remembered when this hole…in…the…wail had been a jazz club； when bright brassy music floated out late at night and spiralled up to the sky； when smoky…skinned women with ripe lips and red dresses stood outside smiling dark smiles at passersby。 Once he had seen Louis Armstrong standing there on the sidewalk with his shirtsleeves roiled up； talking to a crowd of friends。
Christian remembered the slow laughter； the white eyes that shone out of faces blue…black with sweat； the flasks of illicit liquor raw enough to burn a hole in the guts of even Molochai； Twig； or Zillah。 Now the figures that waited uneasily on the sidewalk were as white as white could be； with eyes smudged black and ripped black clothes； little ghosts； like photonegatives of the dusky dancers who had once swirled all night to bright jazz。 Now the music that drifted out of the doorway and up toward the moon was sparse and dark and strange； the anthem of all the lost children who began their lives at night； when the bars opened and the music began to play。
Right now it was sainted Bauhaus； the pale long…boned gods of this crowd； doing 〃Bela Lugosi's Dead。〃 The eyeliner eyes glazed and the black lipstick lips moved in time with the words； and the children danced slowly； for their blood was thin； and they were under the spell of the DJ and the music and the night。
Christian went in。 As he passed the bar； he heard a girl say； 〃God； how tall is that guy？〃 He turned but could not search out her eyes。 He rose like a narrow； pale beacon above most of the children in the club； and he could look down on leather…clad； studded shoulders； on earlobes hung heavy with chains and crucifixes and tiny silver skulls； on heads of hair dyed every unnatural color Possible…blue…black； orange； red； white。 The club smelled of sweat and melting hair mousse and hot leather； all underlaid with the sweet； spicy smell of clove cigarettes。 A veil of smoke twisted gently around Christian's shoulders。
He stood against the back wall； not smoking； not drinking； just watching the children move； watching their faces lift and their hands flicker in the blue light。 A boy came up to him and said； 〃Will you watch my leather？〃 When Christian nodded； the boy dumped the jacket on a chair near Christian and danced back into the crowd； lithe and T…shirred； his thin arms raised above his head。 These children trusted one another； the adult world was obtuse and threatening； but in one another they had absolute faith。 Still； a leather jacket was nothing to be left unattended。 Each one was an individual masterpiece marked by its owner with intricate arrangements of studs and safety pins； arcane band logos； patches and chains。
Bela Lugosi was still dead。 The singer's voice was low and smooth and insidious as throat cancer。 Christian imagined him gaunt and bone…white； writhing onstage。 When the song was over； the boy danced back and slung his jacket over his shoulders。 He offered Christian a cigarette and lit it for him。 Christian inhaled once： a clove； tasting of the Orient and ash； its paper sugared。 Then he held it between two long fingers and let it burn； raising it to his lips occasionally； pretending to smoke。 The taste nauseated him； all tastes nauseated him save one。 And now he was so hungry； so thirsty。
When the boy cupped his hand around his mouth and went on tiptoe to shout something in Christian's ear…his name； perhaps； though Christian never caught it…Christian laid his hand flat against the small of the boy's back。 Through the T…shirt damp with sweat； the boy's skin was hot； alive。 Christian felt the little ridges of the spine through the thin cloth。 The boy looked at Christian for a moment； his eyes darker than before。 Then he smiled and moved so that his hip was touching Christian's。 Their hipbones met and spoke to each other in a secret bone language。 The boy's smile was heartbreakingly sweet。
〃Mind…eraser；〃 the boy shouted when they were at the bar。 Christian paid for the concoction。 It was the drink of a child alcoholic； a sweet fizz with a deadly bite。 〃Share with me；〃 the boy offered； holding up the cup。 There were two straws in it。
〃No；〃 Christian said； remembering the nausea； imagining how Molochai； Twig； and Zillah would howl。 〃You have it。〃
For a moment he thought he heard them laughing raucously behind him； thought he saw them from the corner of his eye： three clumps of hair； three smudged faces。 When he turned； there were only three girls in leather dresses giggling and staring at him。 Christian turned back to the bar； but the boy was sharing his mind…eraser with the girl on his left。 The girl's teased red hair tickled the boy's face； and Christian saw him laugh and brush strands of it away。
But when the drink was gone； the girl went off on the arm of a skinhead； and the boy turned to Christian。 〃Do you want to go somewhere？〃
The air outside was amazingly cool and fresh after the haze of smoke and liquor in the club； and the boy stood still for a few seconds； gazing up at the stars； breathing deeply。 He smiled at Christian。 〃It's nice。 Let's go down to the river。〃
As they wandered down to the river's edge； Christian watched the boy； saw the ripe shine of his eyes and mouth in the dark； the softness of the blond hair that was cut short at the sides and tumbled in a pale cascade down the boy's back； the grace of the boy's drunken hands and the unconcerned； achingly lithe motion of his hips； the soft place under his jaw where his pulse heat。 He smelled the leather and the clean sweat and soap and skin of the boy； and he smelled the French Quarter around them； the spice and the garbage； the grainy golden smell of beer； the deep brown fish smell of the river。
The water shone dark and still tonight。 Near its edge； the boy spread his jacket and pulled Christian down with him。 Their tongues melted together。 The boy's spit was as sour and sweet as wine。 Christian sucked at the boy's mouth； let the spit flow down his throat； warming him； awakening his hunger even more。
The boy twisted and stretched under him； hugging him close to bony childish chest and soft thin skin； and then the boy sat up and pulled his T…shirt over his head。 The moonlight made him a creature of white and silver； striped dark with jutting ribs。 He slipped back into his leather。 〃I like to feel it against my skin；〃 he explained shyly。
Christian held the boy close； cradled him； kissed his throat。 The boy moaned very softly when he felt the first touch of the long needle…sharp teeth that curved over Christian's lips now； drawn out by the night and the smell of the river and the delicious beauty of the boy in his arms。
The boy twisted his head to look at Christian。 His eyes were big in his thin face； and very dark。 〃What are you？〃 he asked。
Christian was silent。 But his teeth had pricked the boy's skin； and the first faint scent of blood reached him。
〃Are you a vampire？〃
Christian stroked the boy's hair back from his forehead； kissed the side of the boy's face tenderly； flicking the tip of his tongue across the smooth skin。
〃Make me into one too；〃 said the boy。 〃Please？ I want to be one。 I want to walk at night with you and fall in love and drink blood。 Kill me。 Make me into a vampire too。 Bite me。 Take me with you。〃
Christian nipped the boy's throat gently； not breaking the skin this time。 He ran his hands along the length of the boy's body under the jacket； caressed his smooth bare chest； slipped one hand beneath the belt of the boy's jeans and found molten trembling heat there。 The boy's back arched； he made a low gasping sound。 Christian's tongue found the tender spot under the jaw； and he sank his teeth in。 The boy whimpered and went rigid in his arms。 The raw yolky taste of life spilled into Christian's mouth； bubbling out of the boy fresh and strong。
Christian eased the boy's body to the ground； held him； and sucked。 The taste was all he remembered； all he dreamed about； all he would ever need。 The boy pressed himself up against Christian。 His hands found the long black hair that spilled down over Christian's shoulders and tore at it in a passion born of pain。
Then suddenly Christian's vision blossomed red； black； red again； great gauzy flowers of light and darkness that blotted out the French Quarter； the river； the boy's face。 He clasped the boy more tightly； and their bodies locked together in a final wash of ecstasy； Christian's belly warming and filling； the boy beginning to die。 The boy's sperm flooded warm over Christian's fingers。 Christian brought his hand up to his lips and sucked at that too。 The two tastes mingling in his mouth； creamy and delicate and bitter
