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cket； cloth that smelled of sweat and sweets； of sex and 。 。 。 blood。 Laine's blood。 Nothing knew it was probably on his own clothes too； on his skin and greased into his hair。 Because he had not dreamed。 Last night had really happened。 He had killed Laine； killed him with bare teeth and hands and only a little help from his friends。
They really are vampires； he thought。 You be consigned yourself to a life of blood and murder； you can never rejoin the daytime world。 And he answered himself： Fine。 As long as I don't have to be alone again。
〃We're here；〃 Molochai said； dropping Nothing back onto the mattress。 〃This is it； right； Twig？〃
〃Yup；〃 said Twig。 〃Fourteen Burnt Church Road； Missing Mile； Enn Cee。 Curb service； kiddo。〃
The roof of the van billowed and rippled。 With an effort； Nothing focused his eyes。 The streaky faces of Molochai and Twig hung over him； haggard and grinning； waiting to see what he would do。
Where was Zillah？ Asleep on the mattress nearby； his warmth close enough to touch； his head pillowed on a fold of Nothing's raincoat。 Wisps of his dry Mardi Gras hair trailed away over the black silk。
〃We could e with you；〃 Molochai offered generously。 〃We like musicians。〃
〃We like you；〃 Twig said； the sharp tip of his tongue flickering over his lips。 〃It's not often we meet a drinking man such as yourself。〃
Nothing struggled to his knees； cupped his hands to the window。 He saw a small wooden house nestled among trees far off at the end of a gravel driveway。 Was Ghost in that house right now； awake or dreaming？ His vision seemed to shift again； and he realized that even the watery light of the early afternoon hurt his eyes。 His pupils felt distended。
Molochai turned on the tape player。 As Bauhaus began blasting a live cut of 〃Stigmata Martyr；〃 Zillah came slowly and luxuriously awake。 He opened first one brilliant eye； then the other； ran his hands through his silky hair； yawned and stretched his catlike body。 When his eyes lit upon Nothing's； he sat up and took Nothing into his arms and kissed him。
Zillah's mouth was as sour and sweet as wine； and his spit had a rich red corrupt taste。 Nothing let it flow into him； drank it； took strength from it as if it were the potion in the wine bottle。 That taste was everything。 The taste of blood and Zillah's spit and e and the roughplay and the drinking and all the long enchanted days and nights。 Everything。 Nothing still wanted to talk to Lost Souls？…he had e all this wayrebut he no longer ached for a family。 He no longer wanted to pretend that Steve and Ghost were his long…lost brothers。 He had his family now； he had chosen them and their nighttime world。
〃e on；〃 he said。 〃You're all going in with me。〃 He had asserted himself for the first time； he was being their equal； and he thought he saw approval in the slant of Zillah's smile。
He felt so good； so strong and confident； that he never stopped to think what might happen once they got into the house。
They left the van parked near the road and made their way unsteadily up the driveway。 Gravel crunched under Nothing's feet。 The house was thirty steps away。 Twenty。 Molochai and Twig clutched each other； trying to stay upright。 Zillah's hand brushed the back of Nothing's neck。 Nothing shivered at the touch。 It made him want to be back in the van； on the mattress with Zillah； tangled； sweaty； biting again。
But now he was so close to Ghost； he thought he felt the tendril of a golden aura touching him。 The house loomed up； if such a scruffy little house could be said to loom。 One shutter hung askew like the half…cynical tilt of an eyebrow。 The windows were lidded； deeply humorous eyes。 This house was good。
The porch steps sagged a little under their weight。 Not much； the house was old but sturdy。 Someone had painted a hex sign at the threshold of the door： a red triangle and a blue one interlocking to form a six…pointed star； and in the center a small ankh traced in silver。 Molochai and Twig drew back from it； still clutching each other uneasily； but Zillah cast them a look of contempt。 'That thing won't hurt you。 Just step over it。〃
The door sported an incongruously fancy knocker： the face of a gargoyle wrought in silver； with a heavy ring through its nostrils and eyes that seemed about to bulge out of their sockets。 Nothing used the ring to knock； first gently and then loudly； but no one stirred inside the house。 He looked doubtfully at the old brown car in the driveway。 Someone must be here。 〃Maybe they don't want pany；〃 he said； not sure whether the sinking inside him was disappointment or relief。
〃Try the door；〃 Twig suggested。 Before Nothing could respond； Twig stepped up and rattled the knob himself。 It would turn no more than a quarter inch in either direction。 The door was locked。
〃I guess that's it；〃 said Nothing。 His hand； deep in the pocket of his raincoat； touched the single long bone he had found on the shoulder of the highway。 Four days ago…a lifetime ago…he had set out thinking be might e here。 Had he hoped to find his home in Missing Mile； at an address he had found on the liner of a tape put out by an obscure band？ Now that he was here； it hardly seemed real。
Molochai had been peering through the window next to the front door。 Now he gave it a shove。 It slid up with only a small groaning protest。 〃I found a way in；〃 Molochai said proudly。
And before Nothing quite knew what was happening； the other three had climbed through the window…even Zillah； who stepped delicately over the sill and was received on the other side by the outstretched hands of Molochai and Twig。 Nothing stared in at them。 They grinned and waved back； daring him。 But he couldn't follow。 The car was here； someone must be home。 He couldn't just let himself in； no matter how much he wanted to see the inside of the house。 He couldn't go through the window； He mustn't。
A splinter from the windowsill snagged his jeans as he went in。
The jumble of decor…obscure； lovely jazz and acid rock posters； religious samplers； a bookshelf with volume after volume of herbal lore cheek by jowl with things like Kerouac； Ellison； Bradbury （the Bradbury books surely belonged to Ghost； Steve would never choose anything so romantic）… caught Nothing's attention at first。 Then he realized what the others were doing。 Molochai and Twig were in the kitchen； ransacking the refrigerator。 He heard pop…tops cracking open as they helped themselves to cans of beer。 Zillah fell dramatically onto the couch and began unbuttoning his shirt with dreamy fascination； his long hair draped over the arm of the couch； streaming down。
The passage down the hall； pale and wavering and tantalizing； held Nothing's attention for a long time before he noticed the smell。 When it finally breached his awareness； he did not recognize it at once。 It was so faint…there； on a breath of air； and gone again。 He licked his lips； took a shallow breath through his mouth。 Although he did not realize it； he was testing the air； beginning to use sensitive scent organs that had lain dormant all his fifteen years。 The scent was familiar； he had smelled it just last night； but now there was something differ