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had abandoned it to give it a chance at a life untainted by blood。 But he had never forgot…ton。 Now he knew that he might as well have kept the baby after all。 Blood calls to blood； curses and blessings find the ones they were meant for。
〃Nothing？〃 he asked； and took another step toward the boy。 Shyly； the child nodded。
Christian closed his eyes； and the words of his note pinned to a blanket on some long…ago cold dawn came back to him。 〃'His name is Nothing。'〃 he quoted。 〃'Care for him and he will bring you luck。'〃
He was not at all prepared for the boy's reaction。 Nothing tore himself away from Zillah and launched himself at Christian； threw his arms around Christian's waist。 Christian felt the boy's body pressing against him； warm and vital。
〃Yes！〃 Nothing cried。 〃Yes！ Yes！ They changed my name！ They called me Jason but I hated them and I'm still Nothing and now I'm home and you know who I am！ Tell me！ Tell me who I am！〃
〃Why； you're Zillah's son；〃 said Christian。 He had assumed they knew。 But there was silence。 Absolute silence。 Even Molochai and Twig were quiet。
Nothing only stared up at Christian。 The shadows beneath his eyes were suddenly deeper； his mouth was limp； half…open。 He had the look of an ill…used child； a child kept out too late。 〃Oh；〃 he said。 That seemed to be all he could say。 〃Ohhh。〃
Zillah gently pried Nothing away from Christian。 Nothing shut his eyes tight and curled into Zillah's arms。 His head lay heavily against Zillah's chest In an instant he seemed to have fallen into deep shock。
Zillah caressed him absently。 〃Mardi Gras？〃 he asked Christian。 〃That little girl at your bar？〃
Christian nodded。
'Well；〃 said Zillah。 He was paler than usual； but he held himself straight； and his eyes were fiercely happy。 More than that； Christian realized。 Zillah's eyes were proud。 〃Well。 That changes things； doesn't it？ That makes things even better。 Lovely。〃
Molochai and Twig began whispering to each other。 Christian heard a smothered giggle。 The singer had been listening to the exchange； but he was more concerned with his friend。 The girl seemed to be in a world of her own； slumped against the side of the van； her arms wrapped around herself； her chin tucked into her chest。 The streetlight was very bright on her hair。
Christian looked up at the moon。 It hung gravid in the sky； nearly full。 Its light was strong enough to hurt his eyes； and he closed them； but still the moon shone through。 It shone down upon them all there on the sidewalk…Steve； his head in Ghost's lap； furious； wounded； defeated； Zillah； with his sleeping child in his arms； Molochai and Twig； clutching each other； still whispering。
And Ann alone。 Ann alone under the moon。 Some of Zillah's seed was trickling out of her； seeping slow and creamy down her thighs。
Some…but not all。 Inside Ann； two specks of life had glued themselves together； and deep inside her where all was raw and red and wet； something came alive。 A microdot of meat； part human； part strange。 Nothing's half…brother； or his half…sister。
Steve shuddered and lay still again。 Ghost stroked his hair helplessly。 Nothing moaned； beginning to surface from his shock； burrowing into his father's arms。 The moon shone down； and Christian stared back at it。 And inside Ann； the infinitesimal blob of meat stretched and began to grow。
PART 2
Chapter 21
Night。
Heavy green night； pine branches bending low to sweep the gravel road； the dying grass； the trash in the ditches。 Snaky night； riotous with the last October kudzu。 The kudzu would be dead in another month； like a dry brown blanket thrown over the trees and the roadsides。 But now it still writhed under the moon； succulent； shifting； green。
Green night。
Violin Road。
A trailer up on cinderblocks； a silver Bel Air and a sagging black van parked in the scrubby dirt yard； behind the trailer a tangled thicket of rosebushes that would bear great lacy blossoms on into November。 The roses had gone wild。
Nothing knew that if he turned his head； he would be able to look through the bedroom window and see the spiny etchwork of the rosebushes against the night sky。 But he didn't really want to turn his head。 Instead he lay very still； stretched out flat on his back in Christian's bed。 His hands moved through Christian's glittering black hair； stroked the long curve of Christian's back。
Christian sighed and moved closer； nestling his head under Nothing's chin； and Nothing felt a tiny sweet flare of pain as Christian's teeth slid a little deeper beneath the skin of his throat。
He knew Christian was being careful。 He knew Christian wouldn't hurt him； would take only a taste of his blood。 This was not feeding； this was lovemaking。 Weren't Christian's long fingers moving over him； tracing patterns on his ribs and his thighs； seeming to worship the texture of his skin？ Still； Nothing had seen those teeth。 They were beautiful； he envied them and wished he might have been born hundreds of years ago； before the adaptations of life among humans caught up with his race…but having to stay sober every night of his life would he too great a price even for fangs that curved down over his lips like hooks of ivory。
At first the teeth had only pricked Christian's lower lip。 They lengthened imperceptibly。 Nothing looked into Christian's mouth； but he could not see how it happened。 They were simply longer all of a sudden； like hooked needles； silver…white and glistening。 Nothing felt those teeth hard against his lips when Christian kissed him； and when he drew back he tasted blood。
Christian bit into Nothing's throat as gently as a junkie sliding a hypo into a sore vein； but Nothing still caught his breath and shivered at the cold exquisite pain。 Then Christian's tongue was there； licking the blood away。 Christian stroked him； a different touch from Zillah's： slower； gentler； less sure。 They strained against each other。
At last Christian's mouth unfastened from Nothing's threat； and blood flowed between them； trickling over Nothing's chest； staining the sheets a little more。 Nothing realized he had been holding his breath。 He let it out in a great rush。 What had he been afraid of？ Christian wouldn't hurt him。 He was of Christian's kind。
Still； he hadn't wanted to turn his head。
〃Nothing；〃 moaned Christian： a breath of fading ecstasy； borne on the scent of blood。 〃O Nothing。 I would like to rip your throat open。〃
'Thank you；〃 said Nothing。 He knew this was a pliment。 Then； after a moment： 'Tell me about Jessy again。〃
Christian sighed。 〃She looked like you。 The same great dark eyes。 The same pointed chin。 The same listening silence。〃
〃You； um； you fucked her。〃
A pause； then： 〃Yes。 Many times over a hot New Orleans summer。
〃She was sixteen；〃 Nothing said thoughtfully。
〃Something like that。〃
〃A year older than me。〃
'Yes〃
〃How old were you？〃
A pause。 'Three hundred and sixty…eight。〃
Nothing wanted to laugh； but he could not。 The thought of all those years stored up in the being who lay beside him； belly warm with his blood； mouth slick with his spit 。 。 。 no； he