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What was getting her through this night？ And what would get her through all the nights yet to e； as the poison fetus grew inside her？
Ghost sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed。 He caught a whiff of himself。 His clothes were as dirty as Steve's； though not as beer…stained； they had only the things they'd been wearing when they took off for New Orleans。 Tomorrow they would have to go and buy a couple of fresh T…shirts。 Something classy； like the oyster bar shirts that said SHUCK ME； SUCK ME； EAT ME RAW。
The wooden floor was cold。 Moonlight dappled Ghost's feet。 He stood up slowly； easing his weight off the mattress； trying not to wake Steve。 There wasn't much chance of Steve waking up； though。 Earlier tonight Steve had declared his intention to drink a pitcher of Dixie beer in every bar on Bourbon Street。 When they didn't have Dixie； he settled for Bud。 As far as Ghost could recall； they had gotten about halfway before he was able to drag Steve back to the room and dump him into bed。
Ghost had had his share of those pitchers too。 He was still swaying a little。 He steadied himself against the doorjamb and crossed the threshold into the hall。
He and Steve had the first room at the top of the stairs。 Next to that was the room belonging to Arkady's mysterious guests； beyond that was the bathroom； where Ghost was headed； and at the end of the hall was Arkady's bedroom。
As Ghost passed the open door of the second room； he saw moonlight filtering in through a dirty window。 The cold glow spilled over the rumpled sheets and blankets on the bed； made the floorboards gleam； threw the closet door into shadow so that Ghost couldn't tell whether it was open or shut。 At the foot of the bed； drooping halfway to the floor； a small twisted shape hung。
Ghost's breath caught in his throat。 As he stared at the shape； it seemed to twitch。 Ghost took two quick steps backward。 Were the occupants of this room really the ones who had killed Ashley？ Could Arkady be that perverse？ Was the twisted shape another of their victims； a child with all the life sucked out of it； hanging bonelessly？ Or was it some voodoo creation of Arkady's； some dried effigy that would e to life and jerk toward him in a horrible parody of dance？
Ghost stood in the doorway a moment longer； pulling his hair over his face； staring through its pale curtain into the room。 He didn't want to know what the shape was。 He wanted to pull the door shut； go on down the hall to the bathroom； and get back to bed。 With Steve asleep beside him； he would not be afraid。
But he had to know what was going on here； whether this was a safe place or not。 Before he could think about it any more； he made himself walk to the foot of the bed and prod the shape with one finger。
A pillow； wadded into a hard little knot。 That was all it was。 For a second he was glad Steve was in the other room passed out； not here to see him getting spooked over a pillow。 Then he wished Steve were here； even though he knew Steve would call him a pussy。 Steve hadn't been laughing at much of anything these days。 Even tonight。 Usually when they went on a real bender； they would start remembering stuff they had done when they were kids； making stupid jokes； imitating each other。 〃Fuckin' shit； Steve； you sure are sucking down that fuckin' brew；〃 Ghost would say； and Steve would reply imperturbably； 〃Yeah； but I can feel the spirit of the beer inside me。〃
But tonight Steve had swilled his beer silently； staring into its golden depths； at the mirror behind the bar； at the colored lights out on Bourbon Street。 When he met Ghost's eyes； he would not hold the gaze。 But before Steve looked away； Ghost had seen stark terror in his eyes。
Ghost picked up the pillow and smoothed it out。 As he was about to toss it back onto the bed； he saw the strands of hair clinging to the linen。 He picked a few of them off they were brittle； translucent…and held them up to the moonlight； trying to see their color。 Some of the strands were clear ruby…red。 Some were bright bleachy yellow。 Neither color looked natural。
Over to his right； the closet door creaked and swung halfway open。
Ghost looked at it； his head lifted high； his nostrils flaring a little。 The door was tauntingly still； trying to pretend it had been halfway open all the time。 Trying to pretend a sudden gust from nowhere had swept through the room。 Trying to pretend the floor wasn't level and it had just happened to swing open while Ghost was standing there alone in the middle of the night。
Ghost wasn't fooled。 He moved toward the closet and put his hand on the knob。 When no one twisted it from the other side； he yanked the door wide open。
For one terrible second he thought something was drifting toward him； some bright many…armed wraith。 Then he saw that the closet was haunted only by clothes； strange； beautiful clothes of colored silk。 Were they dresses？ Shirts？ Ghost took a sea…green sleeve between his thumb and his forefinger； rubbing the slippery sensuous cloth； wondering。 Loose hangers kissed softly against each other。
Who wore these rich clothes？ He pulled a swath of rose…colored silk toward him and buried his nose in its cool depths。 The cloth was saturated with the smells of strawberry incense； of clove cigarettes； of wine； of tangy sweat。
The smells drew him in。
And as he breathed the heady melange； a voice whispered to him from the depths of the closet： 〃Ghost。。。 easy。。。
He was never sure how he got out of the room and made a wrong turn down the hall。 Maybe he meant to go racing back to his room； maybe he meant to lock himself in the bathroom and stay there all night。 He never meant to barge into Arkady's bedroom…that much was certain。 But all at once there he was； and there was Arkady burning a candle on his nightstand； playing with several little heaps of colored powder on a white plate； pushing them into intricate convoluted patterns of arrows； curlicues； lines； and crosses。
When Ghost slammed into the room and leaned panting against the door； Arkady looked up and smiled。 All the colored powders fell back in a bright spray across the plate。 〃What a lovely surprise；〃 said Arkady。 〃Well。 Not precisely a surprise； since I heard you ing down the hall。 But I am ever so pleased to see you nonetheless。〃
First； Arkady made Ghost swallow a tranquilizing powder。 Ghost didn't want it； but in the end it was easy to make him swallow it： Arkady just slipped inside Ghost's mind and pushed。 Usually he would not have tried such a thing on a sensitive as powerful as Ghost； but the boy was terrified and exhausted。 It was easy。
Then he made Ghost tell his tale： the whole thing； vampires and all。 It was more convoluted and full of pain than Arkady could have guessed。 Ghost's hands twitched all the way through the telling； he tugged his pale hair over his eyes； and more than once Arkady heard a sob catch in his throat。
At last Ghost fell silent。 He tried to remain sitting； but his head kept drooping and his eyes threatened to slip shut。 Arkady saw Ghost's hands clenching into loose fists： the poor boy was trying to will himself to stay awake。
With a light finger Arkady touched Ghost's lips； those lovely lips so pale； so delicately lined； tucked in at the corners with worry and fear。 Under his touch he felt Ghost's lips tighten。 Ghost was exhausted； nearly asleep； most likely he did not know who touched him。 Nevertheless； Arkady imagined how it would be to slide his finger between those lips； to stroke the pink rag of a tongue； to be surrounded by the wet warmth of Ghost's mouth。 He wondered how it would be to taste Ghost's sweet spit。 Poor boy； he thought again。 Poor lost boys； both of them。 One trying to drown his fear in a bottle； and the other this beautiful child…trying to confront it all alone。
〃Poor boy；〃 murmured Arkady。 〃You are very brave； Ghost。 Dreadfully； achingly brave。〃 He stroked the smooth curve of Ghost's throat； feeling the flesh shudder beneath his touch； then let his fingers stray between the neckband of the voluminous tie…dyed shirt Ghost wore。 When 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 roo