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ught； Who cares； it's only Steve； he's smelled me before。 Then some distant part of her mind realized what was happening and shrieked； Steve！
He would not let himself part her legs to look。 He knew the warm saddle between her thighs too well； knew its perfumed scent and its tangy taste； knew just how to slide into its warmth。 For some perverse reason he had a raging； aching hard…on。 Maybe because you haven't touched a girl in over two months； the demon in his mind babbled； not even an unconscious one。
He knew that if he looked at her too long； he would want her； even passed out。 Yes； he could slip inside her so easily； it would be like ing home…but what if the thing in her womb reached a tiny hand down and grabbed him？ What if it got ahold of him with its teeth？
His hard…on was suddenly gone。
Steve slid one hand under Ann's hips…she was thinner； he noticed； there was only a scant handful of flesh on each buttock that had once been so sweetly round…and started winding the bandages around her。 Between the milk…pale thighs； snug against the treacherous cunt； up around Ann's slender waist and back down。
Would these keep her from bleeding to death when the poison started to work？ He didn't know。 But Arkady had said to wrap her up； and Ghost trusted Arkady because there was no one else to trust； so Steve had to trust him too。 Even if he was a rat…faced little fuckwad。
When Ann was wrapped from her waist to the middle of her thighs in white cotton； Steve pulled the sheet up to her chin。 The coarse cloth seemed to settle flat over Ann's body； even the rise of her swaddled pubic mound was nearly imperceptible。
Steve sat on the edge of the bed for a long time； looking at her face。 She didn't look any different。 Tired； that was all。 They might have just made love。 She might be catnapping in that lovely twilight lull that happened after good sex； waiting for him to roll over and give her one more long deep kiss。
He bowed his head and rested his cheek against her breasts。 Beneath their softness he felt the trembling of her heart。 Turn back； he thought with sudden incoherence。 Something got fucked up bad。 None of this was supposed to happen。 Time； turn back！
But time would not。
He kissed her through the bandages； right at the V where her thighs met。 Then he stood up and walked toward the door； and only when he saw how blurred it was did he realize his eyes were overflowing。
Steve！ her mind shrieked。
But he never turned around。
Chapter 30
Arkady lit a candle and started down the stairs。 He would get a packet of dried leaves that needed grinding； he would sift them to dust between his fingers as he sat beside Ann's bed。 He would bring up an old fragile book that he had not looked at in too long； and the decanter of sherry that rested beneath the altar with Ashley。
He would keep vigil beside the girl all night； or at least until Steve and Ghost returned。 He would mark her bleeding； watch her temperature； daub her forehead with ice。 He would take good care of her。
And he would think about the way Ghost had slighted him； rejected him； made a fool of him。 He would think about the way Steve had shown him nothing but sullenness and discourtesy。 He would sit beside the beautiful unconscious girl and think about these things； pondering the power he wielded over Steve and Ghost now。 He would look upon the girl's pale fevered face and contemplate the administration of another poison； one for the mother instead of the child； one that would never be detected。 He knew a poison made from the spleen of a certain fish； a poison that duplicated the structure of normal stomach acids。 He would contemplate unwrapping the bandages that Steve had tucked so carefully around her hips； would imagine himself straightening a wire coat hanger and sliding it up inside her； as tenderly as a lover； until the sharp end punctured her womb 。。。。
But no。 He wielded great power over Steve and Ghost through this helpless girl； but he must not use it。 That would be allowing the vampires to triumph。 He must save her with his poisons； otherwise the vampires would have killed her as surely as they had killed his brother Ashley。 As surely as they had turned that lovely aristocratic face to dust； dried that sweet white flesh； shrivelled those eyes； those eyes 。 。 。
He only hoped his concoction would work。 He had told Ghost he'd developed it after the death of Richelle； and this was true； but he had neglected to mention that it had never been tested on anyone。
Something wavered at the foot of the stairs。 His shadow； huge and unsteady in the flickering light of his candle。 Arkady stepped on it…a trick he had learned long ago； stepping on one s own shadow； good for nothing but show…and ducked under the velvet curtain into the back room of the shop。 Mullein…leaf he thought。 I must bring the mullein…leaf to be crumbled； and the book and the sherry。 Drawing near the altar； he bent to retrieve the decanter…and stopped； his dry lips hissing air； his hands frozen in their movement toward the dropcloth。
He always kept Ashley's skull beneath the altar； safe in the dark。 Sometimes in the night he would wander downstairs to speak to Ashley and stroke the smooth ivory curve； but he always put Ashley back in his resting place。 Why； then； was the skull here on top of the altar； nestled among the relics and offerings？
Some of the other objects had been displaced as well： the floor at the foot of the altar was littered with dead flowers； stray coins； the powdery ash of incense sticks。 One of the plaster saints had toppled over； but the candles still burned； two on either side of Ashley； dripping pink and black wax onto the altar。 Arkady reached out to touch what was left of his brother； hoping the contact might give him an answer； or at least lessen his confusion and his fear。
The skull was as cold as a November wind； as cold as frozen earth。
〃What？〃 he whispered。 〃What's wrong？ What's happening？〃
The eye sockets retained their velvety tragic darkness； the teeth did not meet in reply。 But as Arkady stroked the dome of the skull； all the candles the four upon the altar； and the one he was carrying…suddenly flickered and then burned stronger than before。 But now their flames were a bright； cold blue。
A sure sign of evil spirits present in the room。
〃Ashley？〃 he whispered。 〃My brother？ Is it you？〃 But that made no sense。 Ashley was not evil。 Ashley would never hurt him。 Arkady groped under the altar for the sherry。 He would need it tonight。 When his fingers found the faceted glass of the decanter； he clutched it and started for the stairs。
But just before he was about to sweep the velvet curtain aside； he paused； then turned and went back to get Ashley。 This meant he must abandon his candle and ascend the stairs in darkness； but Arkady would not leave his brother down here alone with whatever spirits roamed tonight。
The first stair tread creaked when he rested his weight upon it。 With his bare toes he felt for the edge of the next stair； tried to ease his foot onto it without making a sound。 His eyes strained against the dark。 His shoulder brushed the wall…or did the wall lean in to crush him？ Under his feet the boards felt unpleasantly dry； almost furry。 He climbed two more stairs； three； four。
He was halfway to the top when he heard the light footsteps ing up behind him。
The stairs were dark； but the two faces seemed lit by an unhealthy glow from within。 Arkady could make out their sharp features； their drawn mouths； the tired gleam of their eyes through the cheap sunglasses they wore。 〃It's only you two；〃 he said。 〃You gave me a turn。〃
They started up the stairs toward him。
〃Look at us； Arkady；〃 said one of them。 His voice was only a rustle； like a voice sifting through dried moth wings。
〃We've waited too long；〃 said the other； and his voice was like a wind that blew from far away over a stagnant sea。 〃We can't find anyone。 We can't even look in the mirror。 And we have a show to do 。。。。 〃
Arkady kept backing up the stairs。 He heard his own breath sobbing in and out of his throat。 〃What do you want？〃
〃It's time； Arkady；〃 said the first one。 He smiled； and patches of ivory skin flaked away from his cheeks； powdering the stairs； mingling with the dust。
The other one smiled too。 His lips were caked with dry rouge； once red； now faded to dusty orange。 Even in this dim light； Arkady could see the delicate tracery of lines that webbed the twins' faces and disappeared beneath their sunglasses。
〃We need you；〃 said the first one。
〃It's easy。 You can join your brother。〃
〃There's a girl upstairs；〃 Arkady heard himself say。 〃Young； pretty。 You can have her 〃
The first one shook his head in mock reproach。 His ruby hair whipped his face。 〃No； Arkady。 We don't want your pretty girl； not yet anyway。 Next you'll be telling us to go find a whore on Bourbon Street。 We're hungry。 We know you。 We need you。〃
〃We love you； Arkady；〃 said the other； smiling even more widely。 One of his upper front teeth fell out of its socket and landed with a tiny plink on the stairs。 He picked it up and fitted it back into the ragged