me. "Do you know what we did with her brother?"
She put her hands over her ears and bowed her head. How many times had I done that very thing myself when it seemed a stream of words and images would utterly destroy me.
"You are so glossy, Armand," said Benji. "But I can get you an evil man, like that, it's nothing. You want an evil man? Let's make a plan." He bent down over me, as though trying to peer into my brain. I realized suddenly that he was looking at my fangs.
"Benji," I said, "don't come any closer. Sybelle, take him away."
"But what did I do?"
"Nothing," she said. She dropped her voice, and said desperately, "He's hungry."
"Lift the covers off again, will you do that?" I asked. "Lift them off and look at me and let me look into your eyes, and let that be my mirror. I want to see how very bad it is."
"Hmmm, Armand," said Benji. "I think you are crazy mad or something."
Sybelle bent down and with her two careful hands peeled the cover back and down, exposing the length of my body.
I went into her mind.
It was worse than I had ever imagined.
The glossy horror of a bog corpse, as Benji had said, was perfectly true, save for the horror of the fall head of red-brown hair and huge, lidless bright brown eyes, and the white teeth arrayed perfectly below and above lips that had shriveled to nothing. Down the tightly drawn wrinkled black leather of the face were heavy red streaks of blood that had been my tears.
I whipped my head to the side and deep into the downy pillow. I felt the covers come up over me.
"This cannot go on for you, even if it could go on for me," I said. "It's not what I would have you see another moment, for the longer you live with this, the more like you are to live with anything. No. It cannot continue."
"Anything," Sybelle said. She crouched down beside me. "Is my hand cool if I lay it on your forehead? Is it gentle if I touch your hair?"
I looked at her from one narrow-slitted eye.
Her long thin neck was part of her shivering and emaciated loveliness. Her breasts were voluptuous and high. Beyond her in the lovely warm glow of the room, I saw the piano. I thought of these long gentle fingers touching the keys. I could hear in my head the throb of the Appassionato.
There came a loud flick, a crackle, a snap, and then the rich fragrance of fine tobacco.
Benji strode back and forth beyond her, with his black cigarette on his lip.
"I have a plan," he declared, effortlessly holding forth with the cigarette firmly grasped between his half-open lips. "I go down to the streets. I meet a bad, bad guy in no time. I tell him I'm alone here in this apartment, up here in the hotel, with a man who is drunk and drooling and crazy and we have all this cocaine to sell and I don't know what to do and I need help with it."
I started to laugh in spite of the pain.
The little Bedouin shrugged his shoulders and held up his palms, puffing away on the black cigarette, the smoke curling about him like a magical cloud.
"What you think? It will work. Look, I'm a good judge of character. Now, you, Sybelle, you get out of the way, and let me lead this miserable sack of filth, this bad guy whom I lure into my trap, right to the very bed, and pitch him down on his face, like this, I trip him with my foot, like this, and he falls, boink, right into your arms, Armand, what do you think of it?"
"And if it goes wrong?" I asked.
"Then my beautiful Sybelle cracks him over the head with her hammer."
"I have a better thought," I said, "though God knows that what you've just devised is unsurpassingly brilliant. You tell him of course that the cocaine is under the coverlet in neat little plastic sacks all stretched out, but if he doesn't take this bait and come here to see for himself, then let our beautiful Sybelle simply throw back the cover, and when he sees what truly lies in this bed, he'll be out of here with no thought to harm anyone!"
"That's it!" Sybelle cried. She clapped her hands together. Her pale luminous eyes were wide.
"That's perfect," Benji agreed.
"But mark, don't carry a