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by dust。 A row of large amber bottles； all marked in a flowing black script： ELIXIR MALTO…PEPSIN； AQ。 ROSAE AND GLYC。； HEXATONE。 A drawer full of patent medicine bearing once…bright labels of yellow and red and green； fabulous claims； long arcane lists of ingredients。 In a blue box stained with what must be rusty water marks； DOCTOR DeBARR'S MANDRAKE BLOOD AND LIVER PILLS。 In a big bottle of pure white glass； NOAH'S LINIMENT…FOR ALL CREATION…MAN OR BEAST。
〃e and look at this stuff；〃 Steve told Ghost。 〃It's got something in it called uva ursi。 What the hell is uva ursi？〃
Ghost didn't answer。 He was still in the middle of the room swaying。 〃Aloes；〃 he said softly。 〃Bear's…foot root； elm bark； gentian； Jamaican ginger root。。。〃
〃Look at this shit；〃 Steve said。 〃'Powdered Nutgall Suppositories。' Nice； huh？〃
〃Indian rhubarb； nux vomica； quassia chips； asafoetida； peppermint。。。〃
Steve saw a little brown bottle on a high shelf。 〃'Extract of Cannabis！' He reached for the bottle。
〃Leave it alone 。 。 。 mullein leaf； boneset leaf； senna pods； anise； snakeroot 。 。 。 liverwort。〃 Ghost shook himself and opened his eyes。 〃Sorry。 I was smelling。〃
〃Balm's ready！〃 Miz Catlin called a few minutes later。
Ghost took a final sniff of the room's delicate crumbling scent。 As they turned to leave； Steve stepped onto the YOUR WEIGHT AND FORTUNE scale and dug in his pocket for a penny。 〃It doesn't work；〃 said Ghost。 〃It broke a long time ago。〃 But Steve had already put the coin in。 The scale clattered； clanked； ratcheted。 A yellowed card fell out of the slot。
〃It never did that before；〃 Ghost said。
Steve handed him the card。 Ghost read it twice； first silently； then aloud： 〃'Pain lies ahead for you and your beloved。〃 Ghost's eyes were dark and troubled。
〃Big fuckin' deal；〃 said Steve。 〃I don't have a beloved。〃 He crumpled the card。
Miz Catlin eyed them suspiciously as they came out of the back room。 〃Somethin' the matter？〃
〃Your scale gave Steve a bad fortune；〃 Ghost said。 He told her what had been printed on the card。
She shook her head。 〃Well； I wouldn't pay it too much mind。 That old thing usually stays broke； but once in a while it gets temperamental。 You can predict a passel of woe in anyone's life if you've the inclination。〃 She stared at Steve； and her eyes sharpened。 〃You； though…I remember what Deliverance said about you。 I don't have the gift like her and Ghost； but I can see it too。 You're hotheaded； and you let your temper lead you。 Don't listen to your good heart as much as you ought to。 Deliverance said you'd hurt somebody someday； no doubt about it…but that you'd end up hurtin' yourself worst of all。〃
The drive back to town was subdued。 The day had clouded over； grown muggy and stifling。 Steve's hangover was starting to e back。 Ghost let the guitar lie on the floor。 From time to time he hung his head out the window and checked the sky； his nostrils flaring anxiously； trying to scent rain。
Ghost knew the next rain would bring on a cold spell； soon after that it would be time to batten down for the winter。
〃What the fuck is that？〃 said Steve when they were halfway home。
Ghost looked。 They were past the spot and over the swell of the road before he registered what he had seen： a lone angular figure huddled behind a flower stand。 ROSES； said the painted wooden sign。 The figure was tall； pale； wrapped entirely in black。 Black cloak； black hat； big dark sunglasses。 Even his hands were sheathed in black gloves。
〃Some fun； huh；〃 said Steve； and nervously cranked up his window。 The air in the T…bird grew thick； smothering。 Ghost didn't know why the figure at the flower stand gave him a sick feeling； but he did know that such feelings seldom came to him without a reason。 The worm of worry for Ann was still gnawing away in him too。 And until he knew the reason； there was nothing he could do about it。 Ghost put his forehead against the window and didn't think again until they were home。
Chapter 17
Morning on a sunny road with the music cranked up and the wine flowing free。 Morning in this new world without long days at school and wasted evenings spent smoking too many cigarettes at Skittle's。 Morning； and someone to wake up with； three someones with their warm friendly bodies and their interesting； meaty smell。 Nothing realized now that they smelled of blood； both old and fresh； and he found himself getting used to it； liking it。 And at last he was in the South； with its green cathedrals of kudzu and its railroad tracks to clatter over at eighty miles an hour。
Around lunchtime Zillah passed out tiny squares of paper …blotter； he said。 〃Crucifix〃 from New York。 Molochai and Twig gulped theirs down。 Nothing looked thoughtfully at his。 He had only taken acid twice； weak stuff called Yin/Yang； bought off Jack for three dollars a hit。 Then he shrugged。 The tempo of his days would be different from now on； he might as well enjoy what came with them。 He touched the square of paper to his tongue and let it dissolve there。
Soon afterward they stopped at a Waffle House。 Molochai wanted pie； and Twig requested a burger cooked very rare； but Zillah ordered only a glass of water and Nothing did not dare eat anything。 Already he could feel the acid beginning to tickle inside him。
Molochai and Twig spread their fingers on the greasy tabletop； laughing over some obscure private joke。 Molochai started opening packets of sugar。 Zillah was quiet； but Nothing could feel his gaze； green and hot and somehow demanding。 Nothing toyed with the cream pitcher； shredded the corner of a paper napkin。 What should he do？ What did Zillah want him to do？
He looked at Molochai and Twig hoping for some kind of clue； but they were tussling。 Arguing over who had more room in the plastic booth； it seemed。 〃I only have one inch…〃
〃I know you only have one inch； stupid； why are you telling me about your dick？〃
Nothing's stomach tightened and his head swam。 This was going to make the other times he'd tripped look like children's games； like dreams of dreams。 Thousands of tiny fingers came alive inside him； crawling。 He rubbed his hands over his face。 His skin felt numb； tight； rubbery。 His throat was closing。 He breathed deep and with an effort was able to swallow。 The spit ran down his throat； syrupy； slicking its way along the passages of his body。 He started wondering about something he'd never thought of before： where did spit go when he swallowed？ Did it all go to his stomach； and did that mean his stomach was full of spit？
He wanted to stop thinking。
He stared across the table at Molochai and Twig； who appeared to be primping。 Twig took out an eyeliner pencil； pried Molochai's left eye open； and drew a shaky line along the tender edge of the lower lid。 Molochai sat through it without a pretest。 Despite their squabbling； the two seemed to trust each other unquestioningly。
Nothing's gaze dropped to the table。 At some point the others had gotten their food and devoured it； the remains of their meal lay there； mangled。 Bits of Twig's hamburger； fragments of meat and onion stuck to bread stained pink。 The ruins of Molochai's pi