dk.intensity-第40节

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steadily。　The　bark　on　the　deciduous　trees　is　a　sodden　black；　their　limbs…some　with　the　first　fragile　green　buds　of　spring；　others　still　barren…are　so　coaly　that　they　appear　to　have　been　stripped　by　fire。
　Some　people　might　think　that　the　scene　is　passive　now；　with　the　thunder　spent　and　the　lightning　extinguished；　but　Mr。　Vess　knows　that　a　storm　is　as　powerful　in　its　aftermath　as　in　its　raging。　He　is　in　harmony　with　this　new　kind　of　power；　the　quiescent　power　of　growth　that　water　bestows　on　the　land。
　From　the　back　of　the　barn　e　the　Dobermans。　They　pad　side　by　side　for　a　distance；　but　then　split　up　and　proceed　each　in　his　own　direction。
　They　are　not　on　attack　status　at　this　time。　They　will　chase　down　and　detain　any　intruder；　but　they　will　not　kill　him。　To　prime　them　for　blood；　Mr。　Vess　must　speak　the　name　Nietzscbe。
　One　of　the　dogs…Liederkranz…es　onto　the　back　porch；　where　he　stares　at　the　window；　adoring　his　master。　His　tail　wags　once；　and　then　once　again；　but　he　is　on　duty；　and　this　brief　and　measured　display　of　affection　is　all　that　he　will　allow　himself。
　Liederkranz　returns　to　the　backyard。　He　stands　tall；　vigilant。　He　gazes　first　to　the　south；　then　west；　and　then　east。　He　lowers　his　head；　smells　the　wet　grass；　and　at　last　he　moves　off　across　the　lawn；　sniffing　industriously。　His　ears　flatten　against　his　skull　as　he　concentrates　on　a　scent；　tracking　something　that　he　imagines　might　be　a　threat　to　his　master。
　On　a　few　occasions；　as　a　reward　to　the　Dobermans　and　to　keep　them　sharp；　Mr。　Vess　has　turned　loose　a　captive　and　has　allowed　the　dogs　to　stalk　her；　forgoing　the　pleasure　of　the　kill　himself。　It　is　an　entertaining　spectacle。
　Secure　behind　the　screen　of　his　four…legged　Praetorian　Guard；　Mr。　Vess　goes　upstairs　to　the　bathroom　and　adjusts　the　water　in　the　shower　until　it　is　luxuriously　hot。　He　lowers　the　volume　of　the　radio　but　leaves　it　tuned　to　the　swing…music　program。
　As　he　strips　off　his　soiled　clothing；　clouds　of　steam　pour　over　the　top　of　the　shower　curtain。　This　humidity　enhances　the　fragrance　of　the　dark　stains　in　his　garments。　Naked；　he　stands　for　a　couple　of　minutes　with　his　face　buried　in　the　blue　jeans；　the　T…shirt；　the　denim　jacket；　breathing　deeply　at　first　but　then　delicately　sniffing　one　exquisite　nuance　of　odor　after　another；　wishing　that　his　sense　of　smell　were　twenty　thousand　times　more　intense　than　it　is；　like　that　of　a　Doberman。
　Nevertheless；　these　aromas　transport　him　into　the　night　just　past。　He　hears　once　more　the　soft　popping　of　the　sound　suppressor　on　the　pistol；　the　muffled　cries　of　terror　and　the　thin　pleas　for　mercy　in　the　night　calm　of　the　Templeton　house。　He　smells　Mrs。　Templeton's　lilac…scented　body　lotion；　which　she'd　applied　to　her　skin　before　retiring；　the　fragrance　of　the　sachet　in　the　daughter's　underwear　drawer。　He　tastes；　in　memory；　the　spider。
　Regretfully；　he　puts　the　clothes　aside　for　laundering；　because　by　this　evening　he　must　pass　for　the　ordinary　man　that　he　is　not；　and　this　reverse　lycanthropy　requires　time　if　the　transformation　is　to　be　convincing。
　Therefore；　as　Benny　Goodman　plays　〃One　O'clock　Jump；〃　Mr。　Vess　plunges　into　the　stinging…hot　water；　being　especially　vigorous　with　the　washcloth　and　lavish　with　a　bar　of　Irish　Spring；　scrubbing　away　the　too　pungent　scents　of　sex　and　death；　which　might　alarm　the　sheep。　They　must　never　suspect　the　shepherd　of　having　a　snaggle…toothed　snout　and　a　bushy　tail　inside　his　herdsman's　disguise。　Taking　his　time；　bopping　to　song　after　song；　he　shampoos　his　thick　hair　twice　and　then　treats　it　with　a　penetrating　conditioner。　He　uses　a　small　brush　to　scrub　under　his　fingernails。　He　is　a　perfectly　proportioned　man；　lean　but　muscular。　As　always；　he　takes　great　pleasure　in　soaping　himself；　enjoying　the　sculpted　contours　of　his　body　under　his　slippery　hands；　he　feels　like　the　music　sounds；　like　the　soap　smells；　like　the　taste　of　sweetened　whipping　cream。
　Life　is。　Vess　lives。
　Chyna　came　out　of　Key　West　darkness　and　tropical　thunder　into　a　fluorescent　glare　that　stung　her　bleary　eyes。　At　first　she　mistook　the　fear　that　drove　her　pounding　heart　for　the　fear　ofJim　Woltz；　her　mother's　friend；　she　thought　that　her　face　was　pressed　to　the　floor　under　the　bed　in　his　seaside　cottage。　But　then　she　remembered　the　killer　and　the　captive　girl。
　She　was　sitting　forward　in　a　chair；　slumped　over　the　round　table　in　the　dining　area　off　the　knotty…pine　kitchen。　Her　head　was　turned　to　her　right；　and　she　was　looking　through　a　window　at　the　back　porch；　the　backyard。
　The　killer　had　removed　a　seat　cushion　from　one　of　the　other　chairs　and　had　placed　it　under　her　head；　so　her　face　wouldn't　press　unfortably　against　the　wood。　She　shuddered　at　his　thoughtfulness。
　As　she　tried　to　lift　her　head；　pain　shot　up　the　back　of　her　neck　and　throbbed　in　the　right　side　of　her　face。　She　almost　blacked　out；　and　decided　not　to　be　in　a　rush　about　getting　up。
　When　she　shifted　in　the　chair；　the　clink　of　chains　indicated　that　getting　up　might　not　be　a　choice　either　now　or　later。　Her　hands　were　in　her　lap；　and　when　she　tried　to　lift　one；　she　lifted　both；　for　her　wrists　were　cuffed。
　She　tried　to　pull　her　feet　apart…and　discovered　that　her　ankles　were　shackled。　Judging　by　the　noisy　rattling　and　clinking　that　her　small　movements　generated；　there　were　other　encumbrances　as　well。
　Outside；　something　as　black　as　soot　bounded　across　the　green　lawn；　scampered　up　the　steps；　and　crossed　the　porch。　It　came　to　the　window；　jumped　up；　put　its　paws　on　the　window　stool；　and　peered　in　at　her。　A　Doberman　pinscher。
　Against　her　breasts；　Ariel　holds　an　open　book　as　if　it　is　a　shield；　hands　splayed　across　the　binding。　She　is　in　the　enormous　armchair；　legs　drawn　up　beneath　her；　the　only　perfect　doll　of　all　those　in　the　room。
　Mr。　Vess　sits　on　a　footstool　before　her。　He　cleans　up　well。　Showered；　shampooed；　shaved；　and　bed；　he　is　presentable　in　any　pany；　and　any　mother；　seeing　him　on　the　arm　of　her　daughter；　would　think　that　he　was　a　prize。　He　is　wearing　loafers　without　socks；　beige　cotton　Dockers；　a　braided　leather　belt；　and　a　pale…green　chambray　shirt。
　In　her　schoolgirl　uniform；　Ariel　looks　good　too。　Vess　is　pleased　to　see　that　she　has　regularly　groomed　herself　in　his　absence；　as　she　was　instructed。　It　is　not　easy　for　her；　taking　only　sponge　baths　and　shampooing　her　glorious　hair　in　the　sink。
　He　constructed　this　room　for　others；　who　came　before　her；　none　of　whom　was　in　residence　longer　than　two　months。　Until　he'd　met　his　Ariel；　and　learned　what　an　engagingly　independent　spirit　she　was；　he'd　never　imagined　that　he　would　insist　on　anyone　staying　this　long。　Consequently；　a　shower　had　seemed　unnecessary。
　He　had　first　seen　the　girl　in　a　newspaper　photograph。　Though　only　a　tenth…grader；　she　had　been　something　of　a　prodigy　and　had　led　her　Sacramento　high　school　team　to　victory　in　a　statewide　California　academic　decathlon。　She　had　looked　so　tender。　The　newspaper　had　trem…bled　in　his　hands　when　he　had　seen　her；　and　he　had　known　at　once　that　he　must　drive　to　Sacramento　and　meet　her。　He'd　shot　the　father。　The　mother　had　owned　an　enormous　collection　of　dolls　and　had　made　dolls　of　her　own　as　a　hobby。　Vess　had　beaten　her　to　death　with　a　ventriloquist　dummy　that　had　a　large；　carved_maple　head　as　effective　as　a　baseball　bat。　〃You're　more　beautiful　than　ever；〃　he　tells　Ariel；　and　his　voice　is　muffled　by　the　soundproofing；　as　if　he　were　speaking　from　inside　a　coffin；　buried　alive。
　She　does　not　reply　or　even　acknowledge　his　presence。　She　is　in　her　silent　mode；　as　she　has　been　without　interruption　for　more　than　six　months。　〃I　missed　you。〃
　These　days；　she　never　looks　at　him　but　stares　at　a　point　above　his　head　and　off　to　one　side。　If　he　were　to　stand　up　from　the　footstool　and　move　into　her　line　of　sight；　she　would　still　be　looking　over　his　head　and　to　one　side；　though　he　would　never　quite　be　able　to　see　her　eyes　shift　in　avoidance。　〃I　brought　a　few　things　to　show　you。〃
　From　a　shoe　box　on　the　floor　beside　the　footstool；　he　extracts　two　Polaroid　photographs。　She　will　not　accept　them　or　turn　her　eyes　to　them；　but　Vess　knows　that　she　will　examine　these　mementos　after　he　leaves。
　She　is　not　as　lost　to　this　world　as　she　pretends　to　be。　They　are　engaged　in　a　plicated　game　with　high　stakes；　and　she　is　a　good　player。
　〃This　first　is　a　picture　of　a　lady　named　Sarah　Templeton；　the　way　she　looked　before　I　had　her。　She　was　in　her　forties　but　very　attractive。　A　lovely　woman。〃
　The　armchair　is　so　deep　that　the　seat　cushion　provides　a　ledge　in　front　of　Ariel　on　which　Vess　can　place　the　photograph。　
　〃Lovely；〃　he　repeats。
　Ariel　doesn't　blink。　She　is　capable　of　staring　fixedly　without　blinking　for　surprisingly　long　periods。　Now　and　then　Mr。　Vess　worries　that　she　will　damage　her　striking　blue　eyes；　corneas　require　frequent　lubrication。　Of　course；　if　she　goes　too　long　without　blinking　and　her　eyes　bee　dangerously　dry；　the　irritation　will　cause　tears　to　spring　up　involuntarily。
　〃This　is　a　second　photograph　of　Sarah；　after　I　was　finished　with　her；〃　Mr。　Vess　says；　and　he　also　places　this　picture　on　the　chair。　〃As　you　can　see　if　you　choose　to　look；　the　word　lovely　doesn't　apply　any　more。　Beauty　never　lasts。　Things　change。〃
　From　the　shoe　box　he　takes　two　more　photographs。
　〃This　is　Sara