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She saw her father's fragile…boned face； weirdly phosphorescent in the gloom of the living room back home。 Newspapers were strewn in disarray around his feet； and an empty coffee mug sat on the arm of his chair near his outstretched hand。 She tried to call his name； but if he heard her； he made no response。
She saw a jack…o'…lantern lit orange against a black night； bobbing as if some shadow…wraith carried it。 The glowing grin split open； and a great frothy rose blossomed out； withering and rotting in the space of a few seconds。
She saw a girl's face with dark eyes half…hidden by a curtain of hair； then the girl's eyes rolled up white and silver； and the girl's mouth opened impossibly wide； and a gout of blood and whiskey tumbled down her chin。
She saw a jumble of streets laid out like a glowing map。 Neon danced and rippled： purple； green； gold。 In the streets； crowds of thin children in black frolicked。 They wore studded belts and wristlets； skull…and…crossbone earrings； hair dyed every color； teased and twisted into every conceivable style。 She saw pale faces slashed across with scarlet lipstick； with great smudges of eyeliner。 Stalking among the children； everywhere； were corny silent…film vampires。 They pulled black silk capes up over their noses； drew back in mock horror at crucifixes dangling from multipierced earlobes。 Beside the children in their gaudy mourning； the vampires were old…fashioned and hokey…except that all of them had green eyes that glowed and snapped like strange acid fire。
As the final image dwindled into darkness； Ann realized that someone was touching her。 Fumbling with the button of her skirt； sliding her tights down over her hips。 She would know that touch anywhere； would know it even if she hadn't felt it in ten years： half…rough but trying to be gentle； half…desperate but trying to be tender。
Steve。 At first she wanted to push his hands away； but she could not muster the will to move； so she lay quietly and let him ease her panties down。 Those panties are really skanky； she thought。 Then she thought； 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 b