Zeffer seemed to sense the power of her will on the subject. He put up no further protest but simply said: “You realize if you get in Katya’s way, I can’t step in to help you? I have my own allegiances, however foolish you may think they are.”
“Then I’ll make sure I don’t get in her way,” Tammy said.
“I’m not even supposed to go into the house, believe it or not.”
“Not allowed on the furniture, either?”
“If you’re saying I’m little better than her dog, you’re right. But it’s my life. I made my choices just as you made yours.” He sighed. “There are some days when I think hard about killing myself. Just to be free of her. But it might not work. I might slit my throat and wake up back where I started, her dead dog instead of her living one.”
Tammy’s gaze slid past him to study the luminous people playing between the trees. The sight should have astonished her; but she’d seen too much in the last little while for this to impress her much. The scene before her was just another piece of the Canyon’s mystery.
“Are they all dead?” she asked, in the same matter-of-fact way she’d sustained through much of their exchange.
“All dead. You want to go look?” He studied her hesitation. “You do but you don’t want to admit to it. It’s all right. There’s a little voyeur in everybody. If there wasn’t there’d be no such thing as cinema.” He turned and looked towards the flickering figures weaving between the trees. “She used to have orgies all the time in the Golden Age, and I liked nothing better than to pick my way amongst the configurations and watch.”
“But not now?”
“No. There’s only so much human intercourse anyone can watch.”
“Do they look horrible?”
“Oh no. They look the way they looked at the height of their beauty, because that’s the way they want to remember themselves. Perfect, forever. Or at least for as long as God allows this place to last.”
Tammy caught the apocalyptic undertone in this. “What do you mean?” she said.
“That sooner or later there’ll be an end to this endless indulgence. A Day of Judgment, if you will. And I think — ” he dropped his voice to a whisper, though there was no one nearby ” — you may be its Deliverer.”
“Me?” She also dropped her voice, “Why me?”
“It’s just a hunch. A piece of wishful thinking if you like. They’ve had their time. And I think some of them know it. They’re a little more desperate than they used to be. A little more shrill.”
“Why don’t they just leave!”
“Ah. We had to come to that at last. The reason’s very complex, and to tell you the truth I would not really know where to begin. Let me put it this way. They are afraid that if they leave this Canyon they may break the spell that keeps them in their strange state of perfection.”
“And do you believe that?”
“Yes, I believe it. They’re prisoners here. Beautiful prisoners.”
A few minutes after Katya and Todd had left the party out on the night-lawn, a whisper went amongst the revenants, and one by one they gave up their pleasures, whatever they’d been, and turned their hollow gazes towards the house.
There are only so many times you can play out the old flesh games without losing interest in them. Yes, you could add piquancy if you introduced a whip, or some rope; you could mate with somebody of your own sex (or, if that was what you’d done in your lifetime, with somebody of the opposite gender). But all of it grew wearying with repetition. No feast can ever be so tempting that finally the act of eating doesn’t lose its appeal. Sooner or later even the most ambitious glutton must crawl away and seek the solace of the vomitorium.
It was the same for the ghosts. They’d been here in the presence of their own perfection for decades; and now it meant nothing to them. They’d seen that beauty denied and debauched, they’d seen it locked in every configuration lust could devise, and there was nothing left to surprise them. The presence of living flesh, in the form of Todd Pickett, might momentarily re-ignite some old flames, but the conflagration quickly died away once he was removed from their company.