pzb.lostsouls-第66节

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cket　and　landed　with　a　tiny　plink　on　the　stairs。　He　picked　it　up　and　fitted　it　back　into　the　ragged　hole　in　his　gum；　still　smiling。　There　was　no　blood；　not　a　drop。　〃You　see？　Would　you　have　our　beauty　wither　and　crack　as　your　brother's　did？　You　can　help　us；　Arkady。　You　can　feed　us。　You　know　it's　easy。〃　
　　〃Easy　。　。　。〃　echoed　the　other。
　　They　ascended　the　stairs　toward　him。　Arkady　could　not　run；　could　not　move；　already　his　feet　and　his　ankles　felt　withered；　useless。　He　wondered　how　they　would　feed。　Did　they　have　a　sort　of　proboscis　that　would　thrust　deep　into　his　body　to　search　out　every　last　drop　of　life？　Or　would　they　just　bury　their　mouths　in　him；　rend　him　with　their　teeth　and　let　his　life　force　flow　into　them？
　　Whatever　it　was；　Ashley　had　felt　it　too；　it　was　the　last　thing　Ashley　had　felt；　apart　from　a　rope　around　his　neck。　The　thought　gave　Arkady　a　sick　sort　of　fort。　He　would　try　not　to　be　afraid。
　　The　twins　kept　climbing　toward　him。　Now　he　could　see　the　silver　sheen　of　their　eyes　behind　their　sunglasses。　He　could　see　the　minute　cracks　that　glazed　the　surface　of　their　skin。　He　could　see　the　thin　layer　of　dust　that　coated　their　tongues。
　　When　their　graceful　hands　were　almost　upon　him；　he　uttered　a　low　desperate　cry　and　hurled　Ashley's　skull　at　them。　It　struck　the　redhead's　chest　and　bounced　away。　As　the　first　dry　hand　touched　his　cheek；　Arkady　saw　the　skull　tumbling　from　stair　to　stair；　down　into　the　darkness。
　　
　　The　twins　fed　for　two　hours。　They　pressed　themselves　close　against　Arkady's　body；　and　every　crack　and　pore　of　their　skin　became　a　tiny　mouth；　a　minuscule　suckhole；　questing　deep　into　Arkady's　tissue　to　extract　every　drop　of　moisture；　of　vitality；　of　whatever　love　might　still　be　buried　in　Arkady's　bitter　heart。　They　stopped　occasionally　to　stretch　toward　each　other　and　exchange　long　kisses　oiled　and　flavored　by　the　inner　workings　of　Arkady。　Sex　was　only　a　stopgap　measure　for　them　now；　a　means　to　an　end。　The　usual　sorts　of　lovemaking　seemed　pallid；　tame。　Feeding　was　ever　so　much　more　sensual。
　　Eventually　the　redhead　sat　up　and　yawned。　The　blond　stopped　sucking　and　regarded　Arkady　with　mild　curiosity。　Arkady's　fingers　were　little　more　than　bone　now；　but　they　still　scraped　weakly　against　the　wooden　floor　of　the　landing　where　the　twins　had　dragged　him。　The　husk　of　his　head　still　creaked　from　side　to　side　in　blind　denial；　the　dried　leaf　of　his　tongue　still　thrust　from　his　crumbling　mouth；　questing　for　a　drop　of　moisture。　There　was　no　drop　of　moisture　left　anywhere　in　Arkady's　ruined　body；　the　blond　twin　knew　that。
　　But　they　always　took　so　long　to　die。
　　It　was　sort　of　interesting。
　　The　redhead　glanced　over　his　shoulder；　back　toward　the　warren　of　rooms　down　the　hall。　〃Arkady　said　there　was　a　girl；〃　he　suggested。
　　The　blond　smirked　at　him。　〃Greedy；　greedy。〃　
　　〃I　don't　care。。。。　〃　
　　〃Let's　have　a　look；　then。〃
　　They　tiptoed　into　Steve　and　Ghost's　room　and　stood　on　either　side　of　the　bed。　There　was　a　strong　smell　of　blood。　Arkady　had　left　no　light　on；　and　their　eyesight　was　not　as　strong　as　their　other　senses；　but　they　did　not　really　need　it。　They　leaned　over　the　bed　and　breathed　in　deep；　going　past　the　girl's　odor　of　sweat；　blood；　and　sorrow；　trying　to　scent　out　the　pulse　of　life　still　beating。
　　Then　they　looked　at　each　other　and　shook　their　heads。
　　〃This　girl　belonged　to　Ghost；　you　know；〃　said　the　blond。　
　　〃Who？〃
　　〃Ghost！　Don't　you　remember？　The　beautiful　dreamer？〃　
　　〃Oh！　I　didn't　like　him。　Not　our　sort。　Too　。　。　。〃　
　　〃Too　asexual？〃
　　〃Too　pure；〃　said　the　redhead；　and　they　both　giggled。　But　their　laughter　died　as　they　stared　at　the　indistinct　curled　form　on　the　bed。　Arkady　had　been　so　dry。
　　〃A　shame。〃
　　〃A　pity。　But　we　have　a　show　to　do。〃
　　What　Arkady　had　said　about　the　twins'　being　musicians　was　not　precisely　true。　They　were　dilettantes　who　weled　any　chance　to　perform　almost　any　act　in　public。　Currently　they　had　captured　the　affections　of　a　local　band　whose　Gothic　act　had　failed　to　ignite　the　French　Quarter　club　scene。　The　guitarist　and　former　singer；　Pearl；　was　a　lovely　young　woman　with　opalescent　skin；　masses　of　dyed　and　crimped　blue…black　hair；　and　no　hint　of　a　brain　in　her　head。　〃You'll　inject　some　life　into　the　act；〃　she　enthused。　With　a　perfectly　straight　face；　the　blond　twin　had　replied；　〃And　perhaps　you　will　inject　some　life　into　us；　too。〃
　　Pearl　and　the　other　members　of　Midnight　Sun　had　agreed　to　let　the　twins　front　their　act　for　as　long　as　they　wished　to。　Audiences　were　enthralled；　club　owners　loved　them。　The　band　particularly　liked　the　fact　that　the　twins　never　took　their　cut　of　the　door。　They　had　no　use　for　money。
　　At　the　foot　of　Ann's　bed　they　embraced。　Their　brittle　hair　drifted　together；　their　eyes　glittered　silver　behind　the　sunglasses　they　still　wore。
　　〃Let's　leave　after　the　show　tonight；〃　the　redhead　murmured。　〃Let's　blow　this　town。〃
　　〃But　Pearl　。　。　。〃　The　blond　had　taken　a　particular　liking　to　the　empty…headed；　lush…bodied　guitarist。
　　〃We　can　do　her　later。　I　don't　care。　But　let's　leave　after　that。　My　darling？　Please？〃
　　〃Of　course；　then；　anything　you　want。　But　why　so　suddenly？〃
　　The　redhead　glanced　at　the　bloody　hump　on　the　bed。　Then　he　tilted　his　head　back　and　smiled　into　his　brother's　silver　eyes。　His　grin　was　warm；　lazy；　insouciant；　〃Don't　you　see　what　happened　to　her　？〃　he　asked。　〃Where's　the　elegance　in　that？　This　is　a　trashy　town。
　　〃Too　many　damned　bloodsuckers　here。〃
　　Out　on　the　landing　Arkady's　fingers　still　scraped　uselessly　at　the　floorboards。　Flakes　of　parchment　skin　sifted　from　him　with　every　feeble　twitch。　〃Goodbye；　Arkady　dear；〃　said　the　redhead　unconcernedly。
　　The　twins　picked　up　Ashley's　skull　at　the　bottom　of　the　stairs　and　took　it　with　them　as　they　left。
　　
　　　Chapter　31
　　　
　　〃I　think　this　is　the　place；〃　said　Steve。
　　They'd　been　out　since　dusk　hitting　all　the　Bourbon　Street　bars　they　had　missed　before。　Now　it　was　almost　midnight；　and　they　were　staggering　along　Decatur　searching　for　the　club　Arkady　had　told　them　about。
　　Steve　backed　up；　stumbled　into　the　gutter；　and　stared　blearily　up　at　a　big　black　sign　above　a　set　of　ironwork　doors。　The　sign　was　written　in　enormous　Gothic　letters　that　dripped　lurid　red　blood；　the　corners　decorated　with　a　delicate　spiderweb　motif：　PASKO'S。　Steve　narrowed　his　eyes；　trying　to　make　the　swimming　letters　e　together。　〃Is　this　the　place？〃
　　〃I　think　so；〃　said　Ghost；　swaying　as　a　breeze　from　the　river　brushed　his　face。　The　breeze　was　warmer　than　the　night　air；　and　it　smelled　of　oysters　and　pearls；　of　bones；　of　dark　mud。　It　made　him　nervous　and　thirsty。　〃Um…maybe　we　ought　to　walk　down　to　that　big　cafe　and　get　some　coffee　first。〃
　　〃Yeah；　us　and　a　million　tourists。　Let's　go　on　in。　We　can　get　some　more　beer。〃　Steve　shoved　the　doors　open　and　dragged　Ghost　in。
　　The　kid　working　the　door　was　dressed　entirely　in　black。　Somehow　Ghost　wasn't　surprised。　His　skin　was　so　pale　that　it　glowed　in　the　blue　light　of　the　club；　his　eyes　were　nearly　obscured　by　smudges　of　greasy　black　makeup。
　　〃Fi'　dollar　cover　tonight；〃　he　said。
　　Ghost　rummaged　through　his　pockets。　Things　sifted　out…leaves；　rose　petals；　everything　but　money。　The　kid's　sneer　deepened。　He　looked　like　Billy　Idol　at　the　end　of　a　long；　rough　night。　There　was　a　tic　in　his　right　eye；　barely　noticeable　but　constant。　〃You　fags　gonna　pay　or　what？〃　He　spoke　less　with　malice　than　extreme　indifference。
　　Steve　leaned　against　the　wall　and　produced　a　crumpled　ten…dollar　bill。　The　kid　snatched　it。　With　courtesy　exaggerated　to　the　point　of　great　sarcasm；　he　waved　them　in。
　　As　soon　as　they　entered　the　club；　Ghost　was　struck　by　the　likeness　of　this　place　to　the　Sacred　Yew　back　home　in　Missing　Mile。　It　surprised　him。　The　Yew　was　only　a　little　hole…in…the…wall；　more　progressive　than　most　of　its　kind。　But　this　was　a　nightclub　in　the　big　city；　in　the　heart　of　the　French　Quarter。　Ghost　had　vaguely　expected　more　glitter；　more　jazz。　Revellers　in　spangled　cat's…eye　masks；　maybe；　shaking　confetti　from　their　hair。　But　here　were　only　the　same　sorts　of　kids　that　haunted　the　Sacred　Yew。　More　of　them；　sure；　but　with　the　same　dark…rimmed　eyes；　the　studded　ears；　the　pale　jewelled　throats。　The　sweet　smell　of　clove　cigarettes　was　familiar；　and　their　smoke　swirling　through　blue　light。
　　There　were　differences　too。　Pasko's　served　mixed　drinks；　Ghost　saw　mysterious　crimson　concoctions　in　fancy　plastic　goblets　full　of　skewered　fruit　and　paper　parasols。　And　they　had　a　decent　PA　here；　one　that　not　even　Steve　would　be　able　to　bitch　about。　Right　now　it　was　blasting　Bauhaus　at　shattering　volume。　Ghost　recognized　the　grave；　guttural　voice　of　the　lead　singer。
　　Ann　had　listened　to　them。　Ghost　couldn't　remember　the　singer's　name　or　the　name　of　the　album；　upon　which　all　the　songs　twined　together　to　tell　a　kind　of　horror　story。　Nothing　would　know。　Ghost　wondered　whether　Nothing　would　be　here　tonight；　all　the　children　looked　like　him。　Their　long　dark　raincoats　or　too…big　leather　jackets　enveloped　their　fragile　bones　like　shadow。　Most　of　them　looked　so　small；　so　frail；　ready　to　break　like　soap　bubbles　if　you　touched　them。　But　in　all　those　black…smudged　eyes　lurked　a　certain　hardness；　a　wall　of　glass　t