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eyesight was not as strong as their other senses； but they did not really need it。 They leaned over the bed and breathed in deep； going past the girl's odor of sweat； blood； and sorrow； trying to scent out the pulse of life still beating。
Then they looked at each other and shook their heads。
〃This girl belonged to Ghost； you know；〃 said the blond。
〃Who？〃
〃Ghost！ Don't you remember？ The beautiful dreamer？〃
〃Oh！ I didn't like him。 Not our sort。 Too 。 。 。〃
〃Too asexual？〃
〃Too pure；〃 said the redhead； and they both giggled。 But their laughter died as they stared at the indistinct curled form on the bed。 Arkady had been so dry。
〃A shame。〃
〃A pity。 But we have a show to do。〃
What Arkady had said about the twins' being musicians was not precisely true。 They were dilettantes who weled any chance to perform almost any act in public。 Currently they had captured the affections of a local band whose Gothic act had failed to ignite the French Quarter club scene。 The guitarist and former singer； Pearl； was a lovely young woman with opalescent skin； masses of dyed and crimped blue…black hair； and no hint of a brain in her head。 〃You'll inject some life into the act；〃 she enthused。 With a perfectly straight face； the blond twin had replied； 〃And perhaps you will inject some life into us； too。〃
Pearl and the other members of Midnight Sun had agreed to let the twins front their act for as long as they wished to。 Audiences were enthralled； club owners loved them。 The band particularly liked the fact that the twins never took their cut of the door。 They had no use for money。
At the foot of Ann's bed they embraced。 Their brittle hair drifted together； their eyes glittered silver behind the sunglasses they still wore。
〃Let's leave after the show tonight；〃 the redhead murmured。 〃Let's blow this town。〃
〃But Pearl 。 。 。〃 The blond had taken a particular liking to the empty…headed； lush…bodied guitarist。
〃We can do her later。 I don't care。 But let's leave after that。 My darling？ Please？〃
〃Of course； then； anything you want。 But why so suddenly？〃
The redhead glanced at the bloody hump on the bed。 Then he tilted his head back and smiled into his brother's silver eyes。 His grin was warm； lazy； insouciant； 〃Don't you see what happened to her ？〃 he asked。 〃Where's the elegance in that？ This is a trashy town。
〃Too many damned bloodsuckers here。〃
Out on the landing Arkady's fingers still scraped uselessly at the floorboards。 Flakes of parchment skin sifted from him with every feeble twitch。 〃Goodbye； Arkady dear；〃 said the redhead unconcernedly。
The twins picked up Ashley's skull at the bottom of the stairs and took it with them as they left。
Chapter 31
〃I think this is the place；〃 said Steve。
They'd been out since dusk hitting all the Bourbon Street bars they had missed before。 Now it was almost midnight； and they were staggering along Decatur searching for the club Arkady had told them about。
Steve backed up； stumbled into the gutter； and stared blearily up at a big black sign above a set of ironwork doors。 The sign was written in enormous Gothic letters that dripped lurid red blood； the corners decorated with a delicate spiderweb motif： PASKO'S。 Steve narrowed his eyes； trying to make the swimming letters e together。 〃Is this the place？〃
〃I think so；〃 said Ghost； swaying as a breeze from the river brushed his face。 The breeze was warmer than the night air； and it smelled of oysters and pearls； of bones； of dark mud。 It made him nervous and thirsty。 〃Um…maybe we ought to walk down to that big cafe and get some coffee first。〃
〃Yeah； us and a million tourists。 Let's go on in。 We can get some more beer。〃 Steve shoved the doors open and dragged Ghost in。
The kid working the door was dressed entirely in black。 Somehow Ghost wasn't surprised。 His skin was so pale that it glowed in the blue light of the club； his eyes were nearly obscured by smudges of greasy black makeup。
〃Fi' dollar cover tonight；〃 he said。
Ghost rummaged through his pockets。 Things sifted out…leaves； rose petals； everything but money。 The kid's sneer deepened。 He looked like Billy Idol at the end of a long； rough night。 There was a tic in his right eye； barely noticeable but constant。 〃You fags gonna pay or what？〃 He spoke less with malice than extreme indifference。
Steve leaned against the wall and produced a crumpled ten…dollar bill。 The kid snatched it。 With courtesy exaggerated to the point of great sarcasm； he waved them in。
As soon as they entered the club； Ghost was struck by the likeness of this place to the Sacred Yew back home in Missing Mile。 It surprised him。 The Yew was only a little hole…in…the…wall； more progressive than most of its kind。 But this was a nightclub in the big city； in the heart of the French Quarter。 Ghost had vaguely expected more glitter； more jazz。 Revellers in spangled cat's…eye masks； maybe； shaking confetti from their hair。 But here were only the same sorts of kids that haunted the Sacred Yew。 More of them； sure； but with the same dark…rimmed eyes； the studded ears； the pale jewelled throats。 The sweet smell of clove cigarettes was familiar； and their smoke swirling through blue light。
There were differences too。 Pasko's served mixed drinks； Ghost saw mysterious crimson concoctions in fancy plastic goblets full of skewered fruit and paper parasols。 And they had a decent PA here； one that not even Steve would be able to bitch about。 Right now it was blasting Bauhaus at shattering volume。 Ghost recognized the grave； guttural voice of the lead singer。
Ann had listened to them。 Ghost couldn't remember the singer's name or the name of the album； upon which all the songs twined together to tell a kind of horror story。 Nothing would know。 Ghost wondered whether Nothing would be here tonight； all the children looked like him。 Their long dark raincoats or too…big leather jackets enveloped their fragile bones like shadow。 Most of them looked so small； so frail； ready to break like soap bubbles if you touched them。 But in all those black…smudged eyes lurked a certain hardness； a wall of glass to mask their terrible vulnerability。 Show me what you can； those eyes said。 Hurt me if you want to。 I've seen it all； or I think I have； and where's the difference？
Steve was already at the bar ordering them a couple of Dixie beers。 In the past few days he had developed a taste for the brand； sometimes he drank it as a chaser for his whiskey。 Ghost would rather have gone to one of the all…night groceries on Bourbon Street and bought a flask of scuppernong wine。 Wild Irish Rose or Night Train。 He liked the syrupy thickness of the wine； and the way the fermented； rotten…sweet flavor of the grapes melted over his tongue。 It reminded him of the elixirs his grandmother had mixed for him long ago： the spoonful at bedtime； the tiny liqueur glass that often sat by his plate at breakfast。 He remembered her saying Drink that right down； every drop。 That will stop your cough。 That one will put rose petals in your cheeks。 And the one he had drunk most eagerly； the one he now knew had been mostly fruit juice and suga