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Steve's anger lessened as he looked at the kid。 Scruffy and none too clean； in ragged clothes and that damn phony…looking black dye job； looking as if he hadn't had a good night's sleep or a decent meal in weeks； there was nonetheless a strange； innocent dignity to him。 His features were clear and heartbreakingly young； and when he'd stood up with Zillah leaning against him； a kind of holiness had broken over his face。 A sense of rightness； of arriving at a place he had been seeking for a long time。
Next to him； the creeps looked worse than ever。
Ghost stared at Nothing。 As he had e awake； he had known something about Nothing； about his past。 A baby…a jumble of bright festive streets…a spreading pool of blood on a hardwood floor。 He had known that somehow Nothing was connected to the bad times that were ing； maybe already here。 Most of it was gone now； though he knew he could get it back if he tried。
Instead Ghost did something he could not remember doing before； not ever。 He tried to block Nothing out。 He tried to keep his mind from touching Nothing's； from sharing Nothing's secrets。 He did not want to know who Nothing really was； or where he had e from； or where he was going。 He did not want to feel this boy's pain because he could not lessen it。 Nothing was lost。 He might not know it yet but； what frightened Ghost still more； he might know it。 He might know it very well。 He might have chosen it。
Zillah swayed against his two supporters； nearly unconscious。 Beneath the blood and the swelling his face was androgynous and achingly beautiful in the way that a statue or a mask might be beautiful…smooth and symmetrical； but cold。 Bloomless。 His lips； purple with lipstick and gore； stretched tight across his broken teeth。 His slitted eyes burned bitter； the color of poison。
〃Is he okay？〃 asked Ghost。 〃Is he…〃 He stopped； his eyes widening。 A low sexless voice had begun to speak within his head。
No； I'm not okay； it said。 I am in terrible pain because your idiot friend surprised me with his baseball bat and my own lover betrayed me for the sake of your worthless songs。 So what？ I can take pain。 It will pass。 And if I choose to return and take my pain out of your hide； I will； my pretty seer。 Or； if you like； I'll shove my tongue down your throat and corrupt you with my spit。 Or； if you prefer； I'll unzip your skin and kiss you with your own heart…blood on my lips。 Are you tempted yet？
〃No；〃 said Ghost。 〃Get out of my head。〃 He was not sure if he had spoken aloud； it didn't matter。 He knew Zillah could hear him。 The voice crested into laughter； lewd and savage。 Ghost thought of a blank soul； a being with no morals and no passions except those that could be gratified at a moment's notice； a mad child allowed to rage out of control。
Now Ghost could only see Zillah and the others through a veil of tears。 Tears not for the awful feeling of having his thoughts raped by such a being； but for Nothing。 For that quiet little boy with the thin haunted face； with the dyed black hair。 For that boy who loved Zillah with all his soul。
〃Stop it；〃 said Nothing。 〃Please。 Everyone just stop it。 We're leaving right now。〃 He pulled Molochai and Zillah toward the door。
He hadn't meant to cause all this pain。 How could he have known what would happen？ No one had told him much of anything yet。 They had taught him how to rip through resisting flesh； how to coax the last drop of blood from a limp cold body that had once been warm and alive。 But no one had sat him down and told him how quickly and inexorably the other world the day world； he supposed…would begin to slip away。 Zillah hadn't said to him； We are your whole world now； we and others of our kind。 We are the only friends you can have now。 Or as Molochai and Twig might have put it； Everyone else is just cocktails。
He glanced back at Ghost one last time。 He wished he could crawl into bed with Ghost； pull the pile of patchwork quilts and scruffy blankets around him； and sleep in Ghost's arms。 Ghost would be a friend； not a wild and predatory master like Zillah。 If Ghost would love him； he might still have some choice as to what his life would be。
But Ghost did not want him。 And why think such thoughts anyway？ He had made his choice。 Not even a choice； really。 He had simply e home。
Steve got up to make sure the creeps were leaving。 The kid's big dark eyes were smeared with makeup and tears。 Steve felt a touch of pity for him。 He couldn't be much older than thirteen； right about now he ought to be cadging his first joint or his first feel； not breaking into people's houses with assholes like these。 But that was the kid's choice。 Pity wouldn't help him。 Steve looked back at Ghost on the bed； but Ghost was facing the window； avoiding everyone's eyes。
Steve followed them down the hall into the living room。 〃Don't go out the way you came in； huh？〃 he said。 〃Use the door this time。〃
The kid…Nothing； what a weird name； what a shitty name when you thought about it…turned as he went through the door and looked at Steve。 In those dark eyes Steve saw again the essence of childhood lost。 The dark innocence； the doomed sadness。 And the shame。
〃I'm sorry；〃 Nothing said again。
Inanely； Steve wanted to tell him it was okay。 But just then Zillah lifted his head and looked at Steve。 His eyes were dull； and the wreckage of his nose and mouth still oozed thick blood。 Steve hoped he was fucked up for good。 Brain…damaged； maybe。 But he managed to unglue his swollen lips and shape his mouth around four bitter words。 〃You'll pay for this；〃 he said。
Steve lunged at him。 〃GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE！〃 Broken nose and busted lip or not…
But Molochai and Nothing moved quickly； hauling Zillah out to the porch and down the steps。 Steve saw a dingy black van parked at the end of the driveway； its tailpipe already belching exhaust。 He thought of trying to get the license number； but knew he wouldn't call the cops： they were happy to bust you for underage drinking or possession of weed； but not too thrilled when you wanted anything else done。
Steve slammed the front door。 Three shadows…one large and unkempt； two small and slim and bowed…slid across the window。 Then they were gone。
He went back to Ghost's room。 Ghost was lying fiat on his back； looking at the stars on the ceiling。 His hands lay limp on the blanket。 Steve sat on the edge of the bed； 〃Shit；〃 he said。 〃We still have a show to do tonight。〃
〃They'll be there；〃 Ghost told him with absolute certainty。
Chapter 20
The black van cruised Missing Mile for an hour。 The town was so small that they passed the same places four or five times。 Nothing sat with his face pressed to the window。 Zillah lay on the mattress for a while； still dazed from the blows he had taken。
Nothing thought guiltily of how he had hurled himself across the room and thrown Zillah against the wall； how it must have hurt。 He hadn't even thought about doing it； he had just seen the bat in Zillah's hands； about to e down on Ghost's skull； and he had known that Ghost's death would be lodged in his heart forever if he didn't do something fast。
Now maybe Zillah would abandon him on the highway Somewhere； or maybe all three of them would kill him； their teeth and tongues burrowing into the soft parts of his body as he had done to Laine。 Nothing found that he didn't much care。 He had fucked up。 He had tried to have everything he wanted； all at once； and now it was all swirling down the drain。
After a while Zillah propped himself up and stared moodily out at the dusty storefronts； the gas station with its wooden facade and old…fashioned pumps； the psychedelic red…and…blue whirligig in the window of the Whirling Disc record store。 Soon Zillah's head drooped forward onto his knees。 When Nothing tried to hug him； Zillah pulled away。
Nothing had seen his friends back home use such behavior on one another。 When one of Julie's previous boyfriends got her twentieth…row Cure tickets for her birthday instead of the tenth…row ones she had wanted； Julie appeared to undergo a grieving process of major proportions。 She sat in her room reading the poetry of Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton。 Six pounds melted from her already skinny frame。 When anyone at school tried to talk to her； she would stand dramatically silent for several seconds； then slowly shake her head and walk away。 In short； she sulked for a week。
Now Zillah was doing the same thing。 Nothing was only a little angry at being manipulated； he deserved it for getting Zillah hurt。 What made him angrier was that it worked。 He was responsible for the pall that had been cast over the day。 Zillah's beautiful face was all torn up； and that alone made Nothing feel as if he'd pissed on the Mona Lisa or something。 No one was tripping anymore； and no one had started drinking yet。 The van's usual air of carnival was gone； and the mood that replaced it was flat； subdued。 Nothing wondered； not for the first time； how old the others were。 He had thought them older and more sophisticated than he； but right now they were acting like a bunch of teenagers who are mad at each other but aren't sure why。
The third time they drove past the record store； Twig slowed the van and pointed out a sign taped to the window。 〃Hey kiddo。 Look at that。〃
Nothing looked。 The sign was a grainy photocopy like the gravestone on the Lost Souls？ tape。 Only this was a picture of a stone angel； wings spread； hand raised in warning or benediction； idiot gaze downcast。 Written across the picture in large curly letters was LOST SOULS？ TONIGHT AT SACRED YEW。
〃Where's the Sacred yew？〃 Molochai wanted to know。 〃Is it in the graveyard？〃
〃It must he a club；〃 Nothing said。 All at once he made up his mind。 Zillah might he glad to get rid of him； if not； then they could kill him here； right in the middle of Missing Mile。 〃You can let me out anywhere；〃 he told Twig。 〃I'm going to see that show。〃
Twig slowed the van。 〃You're leaving？ Just when things were starting to get interesting？〃
〃Let's at least eat him；〃 said Molochai in a loud sotto voce。
Zillah seemed to wake up。 He raised his head and looked at Nothing。 Nothing stared back at him for a long moment； trying to register just what he was seeing。 The torn skin of Zillah's mouth was knitting itself back together； its appearance was already closer to fresh pink scar tissue than raw wound。 The smashed cartilage of his nose was straightening； rebuilding itself。 And his gums were still bleeding…but not from the teeth he had lost。 They bled because new teeth were ing in； poking white and shiny through the tender pink flesh。
〃This is a goddamn pain in the ass；〃 said Zillah。
Nothing lowered his eyes。 〃I know。〃
〃Every second it's growing back is agony。 I can feel each cell stretching itself toward the next one； each nerve end screaming。 And do you know when was the last time I had to be carried out of a place？ DO YOU？〃
〃When？〃
〃1910。 I was about your age。 I'd been picked up by a pretty young artillery officer in Savannah； Georgia。 I made him take me to a pany party…posed as his little brother …where they served a punch you could have embalmed corpses with。 It was made of wine； rum； gin； brandy； whiskey； champagne 。 。 。〃
Nothing thought of a concoction he and Laine had mixed in a Mason jar when they'd been learning to drink…an inch from every bottle in their parents' liquor cabinets。 They had dry…heaved for days。
〃I lost control of myself。 Broke a gentle lady's arm； bit through her left nipple； and put out one of her eyes。 It took five men to knock me out and carry me away。 They hanged me from a live oak； and I cut myself down。 And that was the last time it happened； do you understand？ THE LAST TIME UNTIL TODAY！〃
Zillah's face was an inch from Nothing's now； he could actually see particles of skin forming on Zillah's lips； forming a thin web； then meshing。
〃I understand；〃 he told Zillah。 〃I'm getting out here。〃
Zillah stared at him。 〃No；〃 he whispered。 〃No。 You mustn't。〃 A strange smile played upon his half…healed features。 〃Your friends weren't hurt； were they？ And you've learned your lesson。 Why don't we stay and see the show with you？〃
Then； at