【嗜血法医】DarklydreamingDexter

CHAPTER1MOON.GLORIOUSMOON.FULL,FAT,REDDISHmoon,thenightaslightasday,themoonlightfloodingdownacrossthelandandbringingjoy,joy,joy.Bringingtoothefull-throatedcallofthetropicalnight,thesoftandwildvoiceofthewindroaringthroughthehairsonyourarm,thehollowwailofstarlight,theteeth-grindingbellowofthemoonlightoffthewater.AllcallingtotheNeed.Oh,thesymphonicshriekofthethousandhidingvoices,thecryoftheNeedinside,theentity,thesilentwatcher,thecoldquietthing,theonethatlaughs,theMoondancer.Themethatwasnot-me,thethingthatmockedandlaughedandcamecallingwithitshunger.WiththeNeed.AndtheNeedwasverystrongnow,verycarefulcoldcoiledcreepingcracklycockedandready,verystrong,verymuchreadynow—andstillitwaitedandwatched,anditmademewaitandwatch.Ihadbeenwaitingandwatchingthepriestforfiveweeksnow.TheNeedhadbeenpricklingandteasingandproddingatmetofindone,findthenext,findthispriest.ForthreeweeksIhadknownhewasit,hewasnext,webelongedtotheDarkPassenger,heandItogether.AndthatthreeweeksIhadspentfightingthepressure,thegrowingNeed,risinginmelikeagreatwavethatroarsupandoverthebeachanddoesnotrecede,onlyswellsmorewitheverytickofthebrightnight'sclock.Butitwascarefultime,too,timespentmakingsure.Notmakingsureofthepriest,no,Iwaslongsureofhim.Timespenttobecertainthatitcouldbedoneright,madeneat,allthecornersfolded,allsquaredaway.Icouldnotbecaught,notnow.Ihadworkedtoohard,toolong,tomakethisworkforme,toprotectmyhappylittlelife.AndIwashavingtoomuchfuntostopnow.AndsoIwasalwayscareful.Alwaystidy.Alwayspreparedaheadoftimesoitwouldberight.Andwhenitwasright,takeextratimetobesure.ItwastheHarryway,Godblesshim,thatfarsightedperfectpoliceman,myfosterfather.Alwaysbesure,becareful,beexact,hehadsaid,andforaweeknowIhadbeensurethateverythingwasjustasHarry-rightasitcouldbe.AndwhenIleftworkthisnight,Iknewthiswasit.ThisnightwastheNight.Thisnightfeltdifferent.Thisnightitwouldhappen,hadtohappen.Justasithadhappenedbefore.Justasitwouldhappenagain,andagain.Andtonightitwouldhappentothepriest.HisnamewasFatherDonovan.HetaughtmusictothechildrenatSt.Anthony'sOrphanageinHomestead,Florida.Thechildrenlovedhim.Andofcoursehelovedthechildren,ohverymuchindeed.Hehaddevotedawholelifetothem.LearnedCreoleandSpanish.Learnedtheirmusic,too.Allforthekids.Everythinghedid,itwasallforthekids.Everything.IwatchedhimthisnightasIhadwatchedforsomanynightsnow.Watchedashepausedintheorphanagedoorwaytotalktoayoungblackgirlwhohadfollowedhimout.Shewassmall,nomorethaneightyearsoldandsmallforthat.Hesatonthestepsandtalkedtoherforfiveminutes.Shesat,too,andbouncedupanddown.Theylaughed.Sheleanedagainsthim.Hetouchedherhair.Anuncameoutandstoodinthedoorway,lookingdownatthemforamomentbeforeshespoke.Thenshesmiledandheldoutahand.Thegirlbumpedherheadagainstthepriest.FatherDonovanhuggedher,stood,andkissedthegirlgoodnight.ThenunlaughedandsaidsomethingtoFatherDonovan.Hesaidsomethingback.Andthenhestartedtowardhiscar.Finally:Icoiledmyselftostrikeand—Notyet.Ajanitorialserviceminivanstoodfifteenfeetfromthedoor.AsFatherDonovanpassedit,thesidedoorslidopen.Amanleanedout,puffingonacigarette,andgreetedthepriest,wholeanedagainstthevanandtalkedtotheman.Luck.Luckagain.AlwaysluckontheseNights.Ihadnotseentheman,notguessedhewasthere.Buthewouldhaveseenme.IfnotforLuck.Itookadeepbreath.Letitoutslowandsteady,icycold.Itwasonlyonesmallthing.Ihadnotmissedanyothers.Ihaddoneitallright,allthesame,allthewayithadtobedone.Itwouldberight.Now.FatherDonovanwalkedtowardhiscaragain.Heturnedonceandcalledsomething.Thejanitorwavedfromthedoorwaytotheorphanage,thenstubbedouthiscigaretteanddisappearedinsidethebuilding.Gone.Luck.Luckagain.FatherDonovanfumbledforhiskeys,openedhiscardoor,gotintohiscar.Iheardthekeygoin.Heardtheengineturnover.Andthen—NOW.Isatupinhisbackseatandslippedthenoosearoundhisneck.Onequick,slippery,prettytwistandthecoiloffifty-pound-testfishinglinesettledtight.Hemadeasmallratchetofpanicandthatwasit.“Youareminenow,”Itoldhim,andhefrozeasneatandperfectasifhehadpracticed,almostlikeheheardtheothervoice,thelaughingwatcherinsideme.“DoexactlyasIsay,”Isaid.Heraspedhalfabreathandglancedintohisrearviewmirror.Myfacewasthere,waitingforhim,wrappedinthewhitesilkmaskthatshowedonlymyeyes.“Doyouunderstand?”Isaid.ThesilkofthemaskflowedacrossmylipsasIspoke.FatherDonovansaidnothing.Staredatmyeyes.Ipulledonthenoose.“Doyouunderstand?”Irepeated,alittlesofter.Thistimehenodded.Heflutteredahandatthenoose,notsurewhatwouldhappenifhetriedtoloosenit.Hisfacewasturningpurple.Iloosenedthenooseforhim.“Begood,”Isaid,“andyouwilllivelonger.”Hetookadeepbreath.Icouldheartheairripathisthroat.Hecoughedandbreathedagain.Buthesatstillanddidnottrytoescape.Thiswasverygood.Wedrove.FatherDonovanfollowedmydirections,notricks,nohesitations.WedrovesouththroughFloridaCityandtooktheCardSoundRoad.Icouldtellthatroadmadehimnervous,buthedidnotobject.Hedidnottrytospeaktome.Hekeptbothhandsonthewheel,paleandknottedtight,sotheknucklesstoodup.Thatwasverygood,too.Wedrovesouthforanotherfiveminuteswithnosoundbutthesongofthetiresandthewindandthegreatmoonabovemakingitsmightymusicinmyveins,andthecarefulwatcherlaughingqui