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s too。 I know you。
Steve came forward and stood next to Ghost； positioning himself so that he shielded Ghost a little。 〃Wait a minute。 What the fuck are you talking about？ What do you mean； you've been to the other side？〃
〃I brought myself back from the dead；〃 said Arkady Raventon。
They went through the front room of Arkady's shop； through the dimness； the smell of dust； cobwebs； herbs。 They went through the back room； where flowers and plaster saints and bones （chicken bones； Ghost thought； though Steve eyed them warily） were arranged on a small altar covered with a velvet dropcloth。 On either side of the altar； pink and black candles burned。
In a torrent of dust； Arkady swept aside a heavy velvet curtain and led them up a narrow dark staircase。 They climbed； climbed； turned a corner。 The staircase grew even darker。 Ghost had to feel for the stairs； placing his sneaker carefully each time。 He raised his hand to his face and wiggled his fingers。 Before his eyes； five pale wavering sticks danced； they might have been a trick of the darkness； an afterimage of light。 Still Arkady led them upward。
They went around another corner and now Ghost could see a dim rectangle of light far above them。 At last they came to another velvet curtain； beyond that was daylight。 Arkady pulled the curtain aside。 At the top of the stairs was a cozy suite of rooms with clean white walls； large windows that let in dazzling sunshine； hardwood floors gleaming golden。
Arkady showed them the rooms one after another。 〃That one is mine。 The small one belongs to two of my brother's friends。 And this〃…indicating it with a grand sweep of his arm 〃is the room where you may stay。 If you so wish。 I would not think of turning Miz Deliverance's grandson away from my door。〃
The room was simple。 A clean mattress。 A window high up on the rear wall。 A square room。 Four walls of equal length； four sensible walls to contain Ghost's thoughts； to keep out green…eyed wraiths and voices that might invade his mind at night。 A place for Steve and him to whisper the nights away； snatch a few troubled hours of sleep； then go out and do whatever it was they had e to New Orleans to do。
〃It looks okay to me；〃 he said； and waited for Steve to argue。 Steve wouldn't want to stay here in a room above a voodoo shop given to them like a gift by a creepy little proprietor who claimed to have known Ghost's grandmother； or to have heard of her。 Steve would be suspicious； cynical； probably spooked； though he wouldn't want to admit that last one。 But maybe Steve was exhausted from being on the road； or maybe he wanted a drink so badly that he would agree to anything； or maybe he just didn't give a damn anymore。
He only sighed and let his long body sag against the door…frame as he said； 〃Whatever you think。 We'll take it。〃
〃You said you brought yourself back from the dead；〃 Ghost reminded Arkady as they finished descending the stairs。 Behind him； Ghost heard Steve mutter something； but he ignored it。
Arkady drew himself up to his full spare height。 〃Perhaps I spoke too soon。〃 The hem of his white robe shushed against the floor； raised a cloud of dust around his bony ankles。
〃No； Mr。 Raventon。 I'd really like to hear about it。〃
〃Arkady；〃 said Arkady absently。 His eyes had gone distant。 He led them into the back room of the shop and stood beside the altar； stroking its corner。
Ghost's gaze wandered over the wooden framework； the dropcloth of dark sapphire velvet。 He saw things he had not noticed before： intricate enamel charms； little scrolls of parchment； an inverted wooden cross bristling with nails。
Arkady's dry； faintly foreign voice brought him back to attention。 〃It was cold in Paris that winter。 As cold as the moon。 As cold as loneliness。 As cold as the kiss that killed me。〃
His eyes flicked to Ghost's； to Steve's。 Ghost's were wide open； a little scared； he was picking up a barrage of feelings from Arkady； sorrow and fear and pain； but all of them were overlaid with the facile pleasure of a gifted actor performing a cherished role。 Ghost didn't know what to make of it。 Steve's eyes were hooded； wary； waiting for lies。
〃Yes； my young friends。 My poor young friends with your beautiful faces and your innocent dreams。 You think love is sweet； that it can never hurt。 But it was not the Parisian cold that killed me； not the wind in my bones； not the ice that rimed my heart。 It was the kiss of a lover。〃
〃The kiss？〃 Steve's voice was heavy with cynicism。
〃Well； perhaps a bit more than just the kiss。 But you must allow me my bit of romance。〃 Sarcasm sharpened Arkady's voice； and Ghost shot Steve a warning look。 Steve stared at the altar。
〃So；〃 Arkady went on； 〃this； ah； kiss…and the rest of my lover's body as well…was ripe with death。 Ripe； and sweet as rotten fruit。 Have you ever bitten into a rotten peach； either of you？ A plum？ A melon； perhaps？ There is one moment of absolute； blissful； delicious sweetness before the taste of decay oozes over your tongue。 That is how it was with my lover。 And then the sickness rotted my lover away； and I had caught it too by that time； and I was alone。 In Paris； in the winter。 I was alone。〃 A faint smile played about Arkady's lips。
〃Have I mentioned my brother Ashley？ No？ Ashley was my younger brother。 The beauty of the Raventons。〃 Arkady laughed； a sound like wind among chips of crystal。 〃When I went to Paris； he stayed here； and I vowed that I would e back。 I had to teach him； you see。 I had to tell him all I knew of magick； of death and love and pain。 Ashley was to be my apprentice。 And I went to Paris； and the sickness took me。 But I had vowed to Ashley that I would return。 I had given him my word。 And I would not break that。〃
Arkady's fingers strayed to the altar； toyed with the dark velvet dropcloth。 〃So before I died； I prepared。 I had just enough time to find the things I needed。 I sent for powders from Haiti； for potions from Guatemala。 I procured the blood of an ancient man in the Rue aux Fers； the bones of a child in the catabs of Montmartre。
〃But at last I could search no longer。 The sickness came and smiled its final soft dark smile at me； and my blood dried in my veins； and my eyeballs shriveled。 One morning before dawn I swallowed the concoction I had made； and I let the sickness take me。 I felt its lips upon mine； its tongue lapping the last sour drop of spit from my mouth。 I felt my life leave me。 I felt my very selfness slip away； there was one instant in which I thought； My God； now I am dead。
〃And then I was。 And I awoke in the morgue of a Paris hospital； and when I stretched myself and stuffed； one of the morgue attendants suffered a heart attack。 Fortunately it was not fatal。〃
This time Arkady's laughter was like the clanging of a heavy door； a door of stone or steel； a door that would not be opened again for a very long time。 〃Then I made my way home to New Orleans； to keep my vow to Ashley。 But； as any sad story should end； Ashley too had died； and had not e back。 He would never be my apprentice。 He would learn none of my secrets。〃
Ghost licked his lips nervously。 His tongue was as dry as Arkady's