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【德雷斯顿档案】【外传】信仰复辟(Restoration of Faith)

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发表于 2015-2-18 16:32:10 | 显示全部楼层 |阅读模式
本帖最后由 楼革 于 2015-2-20 10:44 编辑

德雷斯顿档案.jpg
  来自密斯特汉化组的感言:
  这是哈利与玛菲相遇的故事,是吉姆·布契的新手之作,更是德雷斯顿档案系列真正意义上的第一篇作品。看过这篇小说后就会发现很多极富趣味的细节,比如小说血魔法之罪最后一章的那段话——
  “我比较想呆在一个较为和平的地方,食人巨魔乖乖待在桥底下,精灵也不会突然冲下来夺走襁褓中的婴孩,吸血鬼严守游戏规则,妖精则谨言慎行。
  看过这篇前传,大概就能对那段话中蕴藏的幽默感产生更多感慨了吧。
  翻译不周,还望多多指教。


  A RESTORATION OF FAITH
  一场有关信仰的复兴
  Takes place before Storm Front
  发生在血魔法之罪 之前


  从时间顺序上来说,这是第一篇德雷斯顿档案系列的故事,这也是我第一次想试着出版的短篇小说。德雷斯顿档案:血魔法之罪 在若克出版社安家的两年多前,我原本只是把这个作为俄克拉何马大学文学专业的课堂作业来做的
  这篇故事得不到多少好评。因为说句实话,它不过是篇新手的拙作。假如算上小学时的作品,它估计是我写得第三篇或者第四篇短篇小说。我当时才刚刚学会如何做一名作家,从一定程度上能从这部作品里看出我的青涩。当然喽,当时审核我稿子的编辑认为这篇文章的水准没有到达标准出版物的要求,我认为这是个非常公正的评价。
  读了这篇故事,你就知道它是什么了——它是一个紧张初学者的首次尝试之作,其中注定会满是单纯的、直截了当的乐趣。

This is the first of the Dresden Files stories, chronologically, and it was the first time I tried to write short fiction for the professional market. I originally put it together as a class assignment at the University of Oklahoma’s Professional Writing program, more than two years before Storm Front found a home at Roc.
This one won’t win any awards, because it is, quite frankly, a novice effort. It was perhaps the third or fourth short story I’d ever written, if you include projects in grade school. I had barely learned to keep my feet under me as a writer, and to some degree that shows in this piece. Certainly, the editors to whom I submitted this story seemed to think it wasn’t up to par for professional publication, and I think that was a perfectly fair assessment.
Read this story for what it is—an anxious beginner’s first effort, meant to be simple, straightforward fun.

——吉姆·布契

+-+-+

  Restoration of Faith
  信仰复辟

  我挣扎着按住正在嚎叫的孩子,同时笨拙地将一枚二十五分的硬币塞进付费电话的入币口里,拨下了尼克的手机号码。
  “这里是褴褛天使调查中心。”尼克应声道。他的声音很紧张,还有些焦虑。
  “我是哈利,”我说,“你可以放松点儿,伙计。我找到她了。”
  “你找到她了?”尼克叫道。他呼出一口长气。“噢,天哪,哈利。”
  孩子抬起她穿有牛皮鞋的腿,像骡子一样一脚后踢在我小腿上。她连续踢着,痛得我差点跳起来。她看上去才八九岁,像是所有父母梦寐以求的小可爱。她留有辫子,脸上有着浅浅的酒窝,穿着一身即便在夜晚的街头也很醒目的彩色女子校服。她还有双很强劲的腿。
  为了把这小姑娘抓得更牢靠些,我不得不把她夹起来,让她的脚远离地面。这么做后她又一次开始挣扎扭动。“哇哦,冷静点儿。”我说。
  “放我走!瘦杆子!”她这样嚷嚷着,转身怒瞪我,然后再度开始踹人。
  “听我说,哈利。”尼克在电话里说,“你得立刻把她丢开。”
  “啥?”我惊诧道,“尼克,假如我在晚上九点之前把她送回去的话,阿斯特夫妻会付给我两万五千美元!”
  “我有些坏消息,哈利。他们不会付钱给你了。”
  我皱眉蹙额:“噢…那么或许我该把她丢在这附近最近的地区法庭里。”
  “事情正变得越来越糟,有对父母报警说他们的女儿被绑架了。警察送了两份调查书到芝加哥警署里,你猜是谁报得警?”
  “米老鼠和唐老鸭?”
  “嘿!”尼克咕哝了一声,他点燃了打火机,深吸了一口烟。“我们就是这么幸运。”
  “看来比起女儿被人绑架,女儿离家出走的事实更让那对傲慢的夫妻觉得丢脸。”
  “去他妈的。‘被绑架的女儿’给了他们更多在派对上的谈资,这使得他们看上去更加富裕有名,他们甚至比他们的朋友更滋润。当然,我们会进监狱,但谁他妈的在乎这些?”
  “是他们来委托我们的。”我抗议道。
  “这也不会是他们说出真相的理由。”
  “该死的!”我说。
  “如果你带着姑娘被条子撞见,我们都会有麻烦的。阿斯特夫妻已经打点好关系了,你快把这女孩儿丢一边回家吧。假如有人问起你就说‘我整晚都呆在自个儿家里’。”
  “不行,尼克,”我说,“我办不到。”
  “让那些穿着蓝色制服的靓男们来处理她,这样我们就都安全了。”
  “我现在在北大街,而且天已经黑了。我才不会把一个九岁的小女孩独自丢在这儿。”
  “十岁!”小姑娘愤怒地尖叫着,“我已经十岁了,你这个迟钝的混蛋!”她踢得更厉害,使得我不得不稍微…呃,努力地避开她的脚。
  “她听起来真可爱。只要让她走就好了,哈利。你该让那些犯罪分子小心她。”
  “尼克。”
  “见鬼,哈利,你又在跟我耍你那该死的道德观了。”
  我笑了起来,但是我嘴角绷得很紧。我的胃液混合着愤怒一阵翻腾。“听着,我们会想些办法的,只要你过来接我们。”
  “你的车怎么了?”
  “今天下午的时候歇菜了。”
  “又歇菜了?你可以去坐高架铁路。”
  “我身上没钱了。尼克,我需要有人来接我们。我不能带着她走回办公室,而且我也不想和她来一场公开展台战斗。所以过来接我们。”
  “我不想因为你要满足自己的道德心而在监狱里浪费时间,哈利。”
  “那你的道德心到哪去了?”我反驳道。尼克只是在说大话,当事情真的到了那个地步,他也不可能把这女孩儿丢在城市的这种角落里独自离开。
  尼克含糊不清地咆哮了些下流的脏话,然后开口道:“好吧,我知道了。但是我没办法轻松穿过河,所以我只会远远的在桥的那边等你。你要做的就是穿过桥,然后带着她到桥的这边。警察巡逻队估计正在找你。半小时,假如半小时之后你不在那儿,我不会等你。这附近治安不好。”
  “有点信心,伙计。我会在那儿的。”
  还没说再见我们就挂了电话。
  “好了,小鬼,”我说,“不要再踢我了,我们聊一聊吧。”
  “下地狱吧,先生,”她叫嚷着,“在我踢断你的腿之前快放我走!”
  我躲开她的音波攻击,跨着大步离开付费电话,半拉半扯地拖着她,紧张的四处张望。我现在最不需要的事情就是有一大群善良市民跑来给这小鬼一臂之力。
  街道上空无一人,坏掉的路灯使得周围的黑暗聚集的更迅速,暗影很快就填满了整个地方。有些窗户里的灯光还亮着,但是没有任何人出来查看是什么使得这女孩嚷嚷个不停。这里就是那种各人自扫门前雪,莫管他人瓦上霜的地方。
  啊,芝加哥,你怎能不爱这个城市,现代生活真是太美妙了,不是吗?我有可能真的是个犯罪分子,而不是只是看上去像个疯子,而到那时候没有人会出来阻止我。
  这让我觉得有些恶心。“听着,我知道你现在很恼火,但是相信我,我这是在做对你而言最好的事情。”
  她停下踢打,怒瞪我道:“你怎么知道对我来说什么是最好的?”
  “我比你年长,也更明智。”
  “那你为什么会穿这种外套?”
  我打量了一下自己黑色的大罩衫,以及又重又长的斗篷,它比我备用的那件皱巴巴的帆布风衣要好了太多。“它有什么问题吗?”
  “它根本就是龙虎盟里的戏服,”她不屑地说,“你是谁?伊卡布·克瑞恩?还是说你是万宝路男?*”
  (注:龙虎盟,1966年的根据小说改编的西部题材电影,在小说第一部血魔法之罪aka暴风雨前第二章中,玛菲也如此吐槽过;伊卡布·科瑞恩是断头谷主角的名字,1999年蒂姆·波顿导演的惊悚奇幻片;万宝路男则是万宝路公司雪茄广告里的人物,1954一个名叫里奥·博内特的人构思了这个角色,这个形象一直沿用到1999年。小女孩用这些电影和角色来讽刺哈利着衣品味土得掉渣。
  我哼了一声:“我是个巫师。”
  她用一种最近几天从谁那里得知圣诞老人不存在以后受到严重精神损伤的孩子的表情怀疑地看着我。(讽刺的是,圣诞老人真的存在,但他没办法井然有序地给这样规模庞大的人口送礼物,这导致人们不再相信他的存在。现代生活万岁。)
  “你一定是在开玩笑。”她说。
  “我不是找到你了吗?”
  她皱着眉毛看着我:“你是怎么找到我的?我认为那个地方是完美的。”
  我走向大桥:“要是我再晚个十分钟左右,垃圾桶里会爬满找晚饭吃的老鼠。”
  女孩的脸色变绿:“老鼠?”
  我点点头。运气好的话我说不定能够赢过这个小滑头,平安无事地带她过桥。“幸运的就是你妈妈的钱包里有你的梳子。我找到了一些你的头发。”
  “所以呢?”
  我叹了口气。“所以,我能够用它施个小法术,直接找到你。我得走很多路,但是能够直接找到你。”
  “法…—什么?”
  这些问题比我过去所收到的任何问题都要好。我不停地回答她。见鬼,我就是愿意回答有关魔法的问题。或许是我的职业自尊在作祟。“奇术。一种仪式魔法。你画一些联系着实际存在的人物、地点或事物的符号,代表模型。然后使用微量的能量在模型上引发些小规模的变动,这变动会转移到真正存在的…—”
  当我被她的问题分散注意时,这孩子低下头狠狠地咬了我的手。
  我叫着一些不该在孩子周围大声吼出来的痛呼,猛地抽开手。这小鬼像只猴子那样敏捷地落在地上,然后奔向大桥。我挥了挥手被弄痛的手,对无药可救的自己低吼了几句以后追向她。老天爷,这小姑娘跑的真快,她的辫子飘荡在身后,彩色的鞋子和及膝袜因狂奔而闪烁个不停。
  她率先跑到桥上,然后窜进芝加哥河上那古老拱形大桥筑着的双行车道里。
  “等等!”我冲她叫道,“别这么做!”她并不像我那样了解这个城市。
  “蠢货!”她兴高采烈地回叫着,一边快步跑开。
  直到一只强而有力、胶质的、毛茸茸的手臂从桥顶下方的井盖里滑出,用它那油腻腻的手指捉住女孩的脚踝。孩子惊恐地尖叫着,因跌倒在沥青路上而磕破了双膝。
  少数几盏还亮着的街灯照耀下,鲜血正慢慢地渗湿她的袜子,呈现出一种暗红色。
  我狠狠咒骂一声,穿过大桥笔直地向她跑去,肺泡因狂奔而不停地收缩着。与此同时那只手捉紧了它的猎物,并开始把她拖向窨井。我能听见窨井里正传来阴沉可怖仿佛嘶吼的大笑声,这笑声直通桥基。
  女孩尖叫道:“这是什么,这是什么鬼东西?!放开我!”
  “孩子!”我一边叫着,一边跑向窨井。我猛地跳了起来,使出浑身力气尽可能用力地踩在那只毛手上,正中手腕,两只远足靴的后跟重重踩进这脏兮兮的肢体里。
  窨井里爆发出一阵哀嚎,手指松开了。小姑娘扭伤了她的腿,而且还报废了一只昂贵的牛皮鞋和一条及膝袜,但她并没有被拖进窨井里,也没有哭泣。我把她夹起来倒退着离开,这样我就不必把后背暴露给窨井了。
  食人巨魔本不可能从那么小的洞里挤出来,但它就是办到了。
  首先从窨井里挤出来的是那只毛茸茸的手腕,然后是布满疙瘩的肩膀,最后是个长着张狰狞面孔的畸形脑袋。它冲我低吼着,有如橡胶般从窨井里挤出来,它像是某种经历了失败的整容手术的职业摔跤手那样站在桥梁的正中央,刚好卡在我和河对岸之间。它的另一只手上拿着把沾有可疑暗褐色污渍、大约两英尺长的骨柄切肉刀。
  “哈利·德雷斯顿,”巨魔的声音轰轰作响,“巫师夺走了哥格斯的合法猎物。”它左右挥舞着那把切肉刀,发出划破空气的啸声。
  我把掉在地上的下巴装回去,让巨魔看见你的恐惧从来都不是明智之举。“你在胡扯些啥,哥格斯?你和我都知道捕猎普通人再也不合法了,不洁宗庭*已经把这事商妥了。”
  (注:不洁宗庭,Unseelie是妖精集会的一种,是黑暗生物的联盟。与之对应的是Seelie Court,通常以“善良妖精”而为人所知。Unseelie Court又称Unblessed Court。原文中并没写是“Unseelie Court”,不过大抵是指后来小说第四部夏日骑士中的冬日势力。
  巨魔的脸上挤出个恶心至极的睨视。“顽皮小孩儿,”它轰鸣道,“顽皮小孩仍是我的。”它眯起眼睛,眼睛里开始燃烧着蓄意不轨的饥饿:“给我!立刻!”巨魔朝我走了几步,蓄势待发。
  我举起右手,向前推去,在我右手中指上的银质戒指闪耀出一种透彻、冷静的光芒,远比我们周围的灯光要亮。
  “丛林法则,哥格斯。”我以一种冷静沉稳的语气说,“适者生存。只要再走近些,你就会踏入‘蠢得不配活下去’的范畴里了。”
  巨魔怒吼着,不仅没有退下,反倒威胁意味十足地伸出了拳头。
  “仔细掂量一下吧,黑暗生物,”我咆哮道。自我戒指而发的光染上了致命的,类似于核武器般险恶的色调。“再踏一步,你就要汽化了。”
  巨魔笨拙地停下了脚步,它那橡皮泥般的嘴唇向下垂去,压住恶臭的獠牙。“不!”它怒吼着,在瞪视女孩时它的口水不停的顺着獠牙滴落在沥青路上。“她是我的!巫师不能插手!”
  “哦,真是这样吗?”我说,“那你试试看。”说完,我放下右手(戒指还闪着炫目的银色光辉),对巨魔丢下我最完美的冷笑,然后潇洒地转身让风衣在空中划出冷冽的弧度,我以一种大方自信的步伐走回北大街。小女孩死死盯着我的肩膀,眼睛瞪得很大。
  “它追过来了吗?”我急促地问。
  她朝巨魔瞧了一眼,然后看回我。“呃,没有。它只是在瞪你。”
  “好吧。假如它开始朝这边冲过来的话要告诉我。”
  “然后你好把它汽化?”她的声音有点儿发颤。
  “当然不是!是为了卯足劲逃跑。”
  “但你刚刚不是说……?”她轻触我手上的戒指。
  “我撒谎了,孩子。”
  “什么!?”
  “我撒谎了,”我重复道,“我不是个高明的骗子,好在食人巨魔的脑袋不是特别灵光。那只是个灯光秀,但它中计了,这才是最重要的。”
  “我记得你自称是个巫师。”她指责我。
  “我的确是啊,”我有些恼火地回答。“一个在早餐前降神又驱魔的巫师。接着我得去找一对结婚戒指和一套汽车钥匙,然后这一天剩下来的时间我都花在找你身上了。我都快累瘫下了。”
  “你没办法把那个…那个东西炸飞吗?”
  “那个东西叫做巨魔。我当然可以把它炸飞,”我欣然答道,“假如我不是这么累的话,以及假如我能够集中精力别把自己也给炸了的话。当我累成这样时,我的准头会烂到一个全新的境界。”
  我们到达了大桥的边缘,同时我希望这也是哥格斯领地的边缘。我准备把小女孩放下来,一直背着她我有点吃不消。但接着我就看见她那条荡在空中的赤裸的腿,以及膝盖上血液干涸凝成的黑痂。我叹了口气,就那么背着她走在北大街上。假如我能在半小时内走过这个长长的街区、穿过另一座大桥抵达对岸,我仍能及时与尼克接头。
  “你的腿怎么样了?”我问道。
  尽管她的脸痛得皱成了一团,但她还是耸了耸肩膀:“我觉得还好。刚刚那个东西是真家伙吗?”
  “当然。”我回答。
  “但它…它不是……”
  “它不是人类。”我接嘴道。“的确不是。但是…见鬼,孩子,许多我知道的家伙都不能算是人类。瞧瞧我们周围吧,班迪、曼森,还有其他的禽兽*1。就在芝加哥这儿,瓦格西家族*2正试着开拓意大利黑帮的地盘,以及来自牙买加的暴徒们。道貌岸然的混账们到处都是,这世上有太多这种家伙了。”
  (注1:班迪原名劳埃德·马歇尔,是著名的精英型淫乐杀人狂;查尔斯·曼森被称为美国历史上最疯狂的超级杀人王。注2:瓦格西家族的首领托尼·瓦格西是芝加哥的前龙头老大,该黑道组织后来因为内斗而没落。在小说第一部血魔法之罪aka暴风雨前第二章中有被提起过。显然在这个前传的时间线里约翰·马科还没崛起。
  小女孩抽了抽鼻子。我打量了一眼她的表情,她看上去很伤心,有种与她年龄不符的早熟。这叫我心生同情。
  “我知道,”她说,“我的父母有点像那种家伙。他们一点都不关心别人,我是说真的,他们只在乎自己。他们甚至都不关心彼此,除非这事儿对他们俩人都有好处。而我只是某种塞在衣柜里、等别人来时才拽出来做攀比的展品,这样我看起来就比其他人的人偶更加优秀了。撇去这些,我就只是个碍事精。”
  “嘿,别这么悲观,”我咕哝,“事情没那么糟糕,对吧?”
  她瞥了我一眼,然后立刻移开了视线。“我才不要回到他们身边,”小女孩闷声说,“我不在乎你是谁、你能干什么,你不能逼我回他们身边。”
  “这么说就不对了,”我说,“我不可能把你丢在这儿。”
  “我听见你和你朋友的那通电话了,”她说,“我的父母正打算陷害你,为什么你还继续完成这份工作?”
  “我还得为调查中心工作六个月才能拿到自己的执照,然后我就摊上这么件必须把一个小孩子丢在天黑后的危险城市才能自保的破差事。”
  “最起码在这里没有人会撒谎骗我说他们在乎我,先生。所有我看到的迪士尼故事都在宣扬父母亲是多么爱自己的孩子,而且这些爱情是神奇的魔法。但那只是个弥天大谎。就像你对那巨魔撒的谎那样。”她的脑袋趴在我肩膀上,当她瘫软在我身上时,我能感受到那些充斥在她身体里的疲倦。“这世上没有魔法。”
  我背着她走了几步,陷入了沉默。
  从一个孩子口中听到这种话太沉重了。
  一个十岁小女孩的世界里应该满是音乐、欢笑、日记本、洋娃娃和梦想,而不是这种苛刻贫瘠、麻木冷酷的现实。假如像她这样的小女孩心中都没有光明,那我们这些人还有什么希望可言呢?
  走过一些街道后,我发觉了一些一直以来都不被自己承认的事情。
  一道微弱冷酷的低语正试图向我倾诉那些我不想听的事情。我干巫师这一行是为了帮助人们,想让这世界变得更好。但不管我与多少只邪灵对持,不管我追踪到多少个黑巫师的种子选手,黑暗之中总是有什么更糟糕的东西在等着我。我找到再多的迷路小孩,也依旧有更多的人死于非命。
  不管我如何努力,消灭了多少邪恶的鬼东西,这也不过沧海一栗。
  我的手臂被小女孩压得沉甸甸的,这些想法对于精疲力尽的我来说太过压抑。
  闪烁的灯光迫使我看向光源,两栋建筑物之间的小巷已经被警戒线封了起来,四辆闪烁着蓝色警灯的警车停在小巷子附近。两个急救人员正支着担架把一个裹尸袋带出小巷,取证相机的闪光频频点亮小巷。
  我踌躇地停下脚步。
  “怎么了?”小姑娘嘟囔着问。
  “有警察。或许我该把你交给他们。”
  她疲倦地耸了耸肩膀:“他们只会把我丢回家。反正我也无所谓了。”她再度瘫软在我身上。
  我吞了口唾沫。阿斯特家族是芝加哥的蓝血贵族,他们在这老城的影响力足以把一个穷到快成为流浪汉的私家侦探在监狱里关到天长地久。而且他们请得起最好的律师。
  这个世界就是这么操蛋,德雷斯顿。那个冷酷的低语告诉我。即便是英雄也得付得起律师费才能赢,在来得及眨眼前你就进监狱了。
  我的嘴角扭出一个苦涩的微笑,与此同时一位身着制服女警注意到了我的存在,她蹙眉瞪向我。我转身走向另一条路。
  “嘿,”警察叫道。我埋头赶路。“停下!”她又叫了一遍,我能听见她那迅敏的脚步声正向我逼近。
  我立刻走进暗处,拐入街区的第一条小巷。一大堆条装箱是个挺理想的避难所,我带着小女孩藏在阴影里。我蹲在一片黑暗中静静等待,警察的脚步声靠近此处然后毫无察觉地掠过。
  当我藏在阴影里时,我觉得所有的压抑负重和暗影都穿透了我的皮囊,直刺我的血肉。而小女孩只是颤抖着贴近了我,纹丝不动。
  “把我丢这儿吧,”她终于开口说话了,“去过桥,只要我不在那个东西就会让你通过的。”
  “确实如此。”我回答。
  “那你快走呀,等你走了我就会去找警察的,大概吧。”
  她在说谎。虽然说不出什么因为所以,但我就是知道。
  她会去过桥。
  有人告诉我勇气就是做你该做的事儿,即便你很害怕。但有的时候我觉得勇气的定义并没有那么复杂。有的时候,我认为勇气是再坐一次飞机,或者再完成一套你压根儿就不想干的文书工作。或许那只不过是寻常的固执,我也不是很清楚。
  不过这无所谓,反正我不认为那只是“寻常的固执”。我是个巫师,寻常生活不属于我。这个世界烂透了,它可能很合适那些巨魔、吸血鬼和所有那些肮脏恶毒酿成我们梦魇的东西(尽管我们把物理书压在胸口催眠自己那些东西都不存在),但我不是那些东西的一员,也不可能会是那些东西的一员。
  我在黑暗中深吸一口气,然后问:“你叫什么名字?”
  她沉默了一会儿,用非常模糊的声音回答:“菲思*。”
  (注:菲思也就是Faith,有信心、信仰的意思在里面。
  “菲思。”我重复了一遍,然后轻笑出声好让她听见。“我是哈利·德雷斯顿。”
  “你好。”她的声音低得有如耳语。
  “嗨,你见过这样的东西吗?”我把自己的手掌弯出一个凹形,压榨出最后一点力量残渣,在右手掌心点亮一团温暖柔和的光亮。它照亮了菲思的脸,让我能瞧见她光滑脸颊上的泪痕,我都不知道她哭过。
  她摇了摇头。
  “来,”我一边说一边脱下戒指,把它套在她的右手大拇指上。戒指对她来说太大了,松松垮垮地挂在指节上。当我把戒指带到她手上时那光芒消失了,我们再度没入黑暗。“我要给你看点东西。”
  “电池没电了,”她咕哝着,“我身上没钱买电池。”
  “菲思,你还记得你生命里最好的那一天吗?”
  她沉默了大概一分钟左右,然后她回答了,那声音低得甚至都算不上耳语。“我记得。是圣诞节,那个时候奶奶还活着。奶奶对我很好。”
  “和我说说吧。”我催促着,静静地用自己的手覆住她的小手。
  我能感觉到她的耸肩。“奶奶是在圣诞夜前夕过来的,我们一起玩游戏,她挺乐意和我一起玩游戏的。然后我们趴在圣诞树下熬夜等待圣诞老人的到来。为了庆祝圣诞夜前夕,她允许我打开一个礼物。那其实是她给我准备的礼物。”
  菲思颤抖着吸了一口气:“那是个洋娃娃,一个真正的洋娃娃。爸爸和妈妈在那一年给我买了一整套的芭比娃娃,他们说假如我不拆盒的话那些芭比娃娃以后会变得很值钱。但是奶奶知道我真正想要的东西是什么。”我听见她声音里染上了点笑意。“奶奶很关心我。”
  我移开了覆盖住她手背的手,一道柔软的粉色光辉从她大拇指上的戒指流淌而出,这光芒带来一种满怀珍爱的轻柔暖意。我听见菲思发出一声惊奇的喘息,然后她的嘴角露出个愉快的微笑。
  “这怎么可能?”她低声说。
  我回以一个笑容。“魔法,”我说,“而且是最好的那种。黑暗中的一抹光亮。”
  她抬头看我,端详着我的脸庞和眼睛。我别开视线以防不慎和她窥灵*。“我必须得回去,对不对?”她问道。
  (注:巫师具有窥灵能力,与别人对视时会看见对方的灵魂和内心深处,而对方也会看见巫师的灵魂和内心深处。虽然看不到所有的记忆和思想,但是会看见内心世界的模样,而且永远不会忘记。
  我把她额前的发丝向后梳去。“有人珍爱着你,菲思,最起码早晚有一天那样的人会出现的。即使现在他们不在你身边,可他们就在那里。但假如你让黑暗蒙蔽了自己的双眼,你可能就永远也找不到他们了。所以你一路上最好给自己留点儿光亮。你觉得你能办到吗?”
  她冲我点点头,戒指上的光芒照得她脸庞通亮。
  “每当事情变得压抑黑暗时,就想想那些你所拥有的美好事物,你曾度过的美好时光。那很有帮助,我保证。”
  她给了我一个简单却极富信任之情的拥抱。这拥抱叫我脸上发烫。哎哟,真是的。
  “我们得走了,”我告诉她。“我们得穿过那座桥去见我的朋友尼克。”
  她咬住嘴唇,表情立刻担忧起来:“但是桥上有巨魔。”
  我眨了眨眼:“它的事就让我来操心吧。”
  我背着她走向原本要去的地方,小姑娘给我的感觉好像没那么重了。抵达桥边后,我审视着整座桥缘。只是假如:假如我运气够好的话,说不定不用和巨魔面对面就能穿过这座大桥。
  是啊,而且说不定有一天我还能去艺术博物馆就职,成为一名全方位发展的艺术家呢。
  桥梁是食人巨魔的专属领域。不管这是因为什么魔法定律还是因为什么专长属性,总之你就是没办法在不遇见巨魔的情况下渡桥。我猜生活就是这么个鸟样吧。
  我把女孩从背上放下,让她落在自己身边,然后一脚踏进桥梁。“听着,菲思,”我说,“不管等会儿发生了什么,你只管穿过大桥就好。我的朋友尼克这会儿应该随时都准备开车跑路了。”
  “那你怎么办?”
  我游刃有余地冲她扭了扭脖子。“我是个巫师,”我中气十足地说,“我可以料理好它。”
  菲思对我挤出个非常怀疑的神色,然后摸索着握住我的手。她的手指摸起来又小又软,这让一种强烈的决意贯穿了我的思绪。
  不论如何,我都不会让这孩子受伤。
  我们走进桥梁。当初那些为数不多还亮着的路灯现已熄灭,毫无疑问是哥格斯的杰作。暗夜征服了整座大桥,混合着芝加哥大河的汩汩流声,在我们身下滑顺而阴冷地缠绕着。
  “我好害怕。”菲思轻语。
  “它不过是个仗势欺人的蠢货,”我告诉她,“只要正面迎击它就会逃之夭夭。”我真的很希望这话是真的。我们继续前进,远远地绕过桥顶之下的那个窨井。我把自己的身体夹在菲思和巨魔的巢穴之间,努力维持着这个体势。
  哥格斯肯定料到这一点了。
  在听见菲思尖叫声的瞬间,我转头看见巨魔像是巨型蜘蛛那样挂在桥沿外,它将那多毛壮实的手臂伸向了她。我再次抬脚踢向它受伤的手指,巨魔吃痛的咆哮中染上了狂怒。菲思挣脱了巨魔的紧箍,而我则把她往桥对岸那边推了一把:“菲思,快跑!!”
  巨魔给我来了一记“扫堂手”,然后抓着桥边的栏杆开始追赶菲思,以它的体积来说这动作实在是太迅捷敏锐了。它被饥饿逼得发狂的眼神死死盯着逃跑的菲思,愈来愈多的粘稠口水从它嘴里滴落。它像是挥舞镰刀那样操起切肉刀,一个飞跃直扑落跑的孩子。
  我以最快的速度冲向它,一边尖叫一边撞上巨魔的腿部,伸脚绊住这生物的进程。它发出暴怒的咆哮,和我翻滚成了一团。我听见自己全身骨头都被压得嘎吱作响,不用说,我的身子肯定快散架了。
  巨魔捉住我的衣角,一把将我撞在桥栏上,撞得我满眼金星。
  “巫师!”哥格斯吐着唾沫怒吼着。切肉刀又一次划破空气,这次巨魔大步走向我:“现在去死好让哥格斯嚼碎你的骨头!”
  我挣扎着站起身,但已经太晚了。我根本不可能即时逃脱,甚至无法撑着栏杆直起身。
  菲思转头看向我尖叫着:“哈利!”随之,一道明亮的粉红色光辉照亮了整座大桥,迫使巨魔转过头去。我立刻起身逃到左侧,直奔菲思,远远跑离巨魔。我看见尼克的车正以惊人的速度驶向大桥,显然我的搭档已经察觉到这里发生了什么。
  巨魔紧紧咬着我的尾巴,虽然我跑在前头,但我不得不面对严峻的现实:这怪物的脚步比我轻快多了。切肉刀撕裂空气的尖锐呼啸声刺入耳膜,然后一道阴冷的刀风掠过我的头皮。我立刻闪向右边下蹲,勉强躲过了第二记刀劈,这次它靠得更近了。我踉跄着跌倒,下一秒巨魔就窜到了我身后。我一个侧身翻滚,刚巧看见它高高举起它那血迹斑驳的大砍刀,还能感受到它喷在我胸口的唾液。
  “巫师!”巨魔咆哮道。
  咆哮声未落,那个先前我以为被甩掉的女警不知从哪里冒了出来。她英勇地扑到巨魔背上,用警棍勒住了它的脖子。她熟练地一扭警棍,巨魔的眼睛便凸了出来。那把巨大的切肉刀从哥格斯手中滑落,重重跌在道路上。
  女警压着警棍向后退去,巨魔的脊椎因此呈现弓形,但她对付得可不是普通人类。怪物扭曲着自己的脑袋,蠕动着挣脱了她的束缚,然后它张开嘴巴发出一声足以把巡警警帽掀飞的暴怒嘶吼,逼得她瞪大双眼,趔趄地向后退了几步。巨魔气疯了,它一拳砸在路面上,将道路砸得龟裂,接着它一拳挥向女警的头颅。
  “嘿!丑八怪!”我叫道。
  巨魔停下拳击,转头看向我的时机恰到好处——我闷哼着挥起那把巨型切肉刀砍向它的侧身。
  在肋骨下那些腐朽肮脏肉块被劈开的瞬间,它嚎叫着抽搐着身体。哥格斯的脑袋向后仰去,挤出一声尖锐、凄惨的嗥叫。由于知道接下来会发生什么,我戒备地后退了几步。
  这位可怜的女警惨白着一张脸,惊恐地瞪着巨魔身上的伤口:成千上百只细小的生物在它被劈裂的血肉里蠕动着、尖叫个不停。怪物身上的筋肉就像是漏气的篮球那样瘪了下去,随着它缓缓干瘪,桥上渐渐挤满了一大堆迷你巨魔。它们有如洪水般冲出哥格斯的尸体,蠕动着喷洒在桥上。
  巨魔的双颊下缩,眼球也不见踪影。它的嘴巴微张,好像在打哈欠。等那些肮脏的迷你巨魔们彻底撤空后,它的皮囊飘落在地面上,像是一件被人丢弃的恶心雨衣。
  女警瞪着眼前的一切,惊愕地张着嘴,试图挤出一句祷告或一句咒骂。尼克开车驶来,车灯扫亮了桥梁,那些数量惊人的迷你巨魔们发出嘈杂的抗议尖叫,在光亮照到自己之前四散奔逃。
  几秒钟后,整块地方就只剩下了我、菲思、那位女警和正开车驾向我们的尼克。菲思冲向我,搂着我的腰给了个快速的拥抱。她的眼睛因为亢奋而熠熠生辉:“这是我见过得最恶心的事情了!将来我也想做个巫师!”
  “那…那是……”女警支吾道。她看上去矮小但结实,没有警帽的遮掩,她那头编织着工整辫子的浅色发丝一览无余。
  我冲菲思眨了眨眼,然后对警察颌首:“那是只巨魔。我知道这很扯淡。”我捡起警帽,拂去上面的灰尘。还有些迷你巨魔藏在里头,它们发出忿忿不平地叫声逃到街上去了。女警依旧惊愕地瞪着眼睛。“嘿,刚刚真是多谢你的帮助,”我眯眼好看清她警徽上的名字,“…玛菲警官。”我笑着把警帽递给她。
  她用发麻的手指接过帽子:“哦,天哪。我还以为我把它给弄丢了。”她用力地眨眨眼,然后蹙眉打量我的脸庞:“是你。你是那个阿斯特家族诱拐案的疑犯。”
  我本想为自己辩护,但似乎没有那个必要。
  “你在开玩笑吗?”菲思·阿斯特不屑地哼笑了一声。“这个…傻大个把我给绑架了?要他向万宝路男讨根雪茄都是个不可能的任务。”她冲我使了个眼色,然后对玛菲伸出双手:“坦白从宽,警察小姐。我的确离家出走了,带我进监狱然后丢掉钥匙吧。”
  对于一个刚刚和“床下怪物”对决过的人来说,玛菲警官看上去接受度良好。她将警棍重整归位,在走向菲思检查她的伤口前,玛菲一直用狐疑的眼神盯着尼克和我。
  “好了,伙计,”尼克一边说,一边努力躲在我身后装背景。“该来总是会来的。进号子以后你睡上铺,瘦杆子。不过在浴室里我可不会帮你捡肥皂。”
  警察看看我和尼克,又看看小女孩,接着若有所思地瞧着那团曾经是哥格斯的巨魔皮囊。最后她的视线又落在我和尼克的身上,然后她说:“你们俩不是那个褴褛天使调查中心的人吗?就是那个专门寻找走丢孩子的调查机构。”
  “那机构是我开设的,”尼克以一种破罐子破摔的语气回答。“这位替我工作。”
  “没错,就是那样。”我附和了一声,只是为了让尼克知道我不会让他独自蹲监狱。
  玛菲点点头,温和地看着小女孩:“亲爱的,你还好吗?”
  菲思吸了吸鼻子,对玛菲露出个笑容:“我有点饿了,还得清理一下这些擦伤。不过除此之外,我感觉还好。”
  “那两个人没有绑架你?”
  菲思哼了一声:“拜托喔。”
  玛菲颌首,随即用警棍点了点尼克和我。“我得把这个上报,你们两个在我搭档来之前尽快消失。”她低头看着菲思,轻轻地眨了眨眼。菲思回以一个可爱的笑容。
  玛菲带着小女孩穿过大桥,与其他警察会晤。尼克和我则慢慢地走进他的车里。尼克憨实的大宽脸上浮现出掺杂着紧张的喜悦神情。“难以置信!”他说,“我真不敢相信刚刚发生了什么!那个巨魔,它的名字是什么来着?”
  “哥格斯。”我欢欣地回答,“在很长一段时间里,食人巨魔只能去骚扰比面包屑大不了多少的生物了。”
  “我还是不敢相信!”尼克又说了一遍,“我以为我们死定了!我真不敢相信!”
  我回头瞧了一眼桥上。在桥的那边,女孩正踮起脚尖向我们挥手。她右手大拇指上的戒指流淌出柔和的粉色光芒,我能看见她脸上的笑容。那位女警也看着我,她看上去正在沉思,随即这沉思转变为一个微笑。
  现代生活可能很糟糕,而我们所构筑的世界可能是个暗潮涌动的地方。但至少我不是孑然一身。
  我一手搭上尼克的肩膀,冲他咧嘴一笑:“就像我之前说得那样,老兄。你得有点信心。”

  END
 楼主| 发表于 2015-2-19 19:27:46 | 显示全部楼层
  小说原文,以方便大家检查翻译的不妥之处。

  Restoration of Faith

  I struggled to hold onto the yowling child while fumbling a quarter into the pay phone and jamming down the buttons to dial Nick’s mobile.
  “Ragged Angel Investigations,” Nick answered. His voice was tense, I thought, anxious.
  “It’s Harry,” I said. “You can relax, man. I found her.”
  “You did?” Nick asked. He let out a long exhalation. “Oh, Jesus, Harry.”
  The kid lifted up one of her Oxford shoes and mule-kicked her leg back at my shin. She connected, hard enough to make me jump. She looked like a parent’s dream at eight or nine years old, with her dimples and dark pigtails–even in her street-stained schoolgirl’s uniform. And she had strong legs.
  I got a better hold on the girl and lifted her up off the ground again while she twisted and wriggled. “Ow. Hold still.”
  “Let me go, beanpole,” she responded, turning to glower back me before starting to kick again.
  “Listen to me Harry,” Nick said. “You’ve got to let the kid go right this minute and walk away.”
  “What?” I said. “Nick, the Astors are going to give us twenty five grand to return her before nine p.m.”
  “I got some bad news, Harry. They aren’t going to pay us the money.”
  I winced. “Ouch. Maybe I should just drop her off at the nearest precinct house, then.”
  “The news gets worse. The parents reported the girl kidnaped. And the police band is sending two descriptions around town to Chicago P.D., and they match guess who.”
  “Mickey and Donald?”
  “Heh,” Nick said. I heard him flick his Bic, and take a drag. “We should be so lucky.”
  “I guess it’s more embarrassing for Mister and Missus High-and-Mighty to have their kid run away than it is to have her kidnaped.”
  “Hell. Kidnaped girl give them something to talk about at their parties for months. Make them look richer and more famous than their friends, too. Of course, we’ll be in jail, but what the hell?”
  “They came to us,” I protested.
  “That won’t be the way they tell it.”
  “Dammit,” I said.
  “If you get caught with her it could be trouble for both of us. The Astors’ got connections. Ditch the girl and get back home. You were there all night.”
  “No, Nick,” I said. “I can’t do that.”
  “Let the boys in blue bring her in. That’ll clear you and me both.”
  “I’m up on North Avenue, and it’s after dark. I’m not leaving a nine year old girl out here by herself.”
  “Ten,” shouted the girl, furious. “I’m ten, you insensitive jerk!” She kicked some more, and I kept myself more or less out of the way of her feet.
  “She sounds so cute. Just let her run, Harry, and let the criminal types beware.”
  “Nick.”
  “Aw, hell, Harry. You’re getting moral on me again.”
  I smiled, but it felt tight on my mouth, and my stomach churned with anger. “Look, we’ll think of something. Just get down here and pick us up.”
  “What happened to your car?”
  “Broke down this afternoon.”
  “Again? What about the El?”
  “I’m broke. Nick, I need a ride. I can’t walk back to the office with her, and I don’t want to stand here in a public booth fighting her, either. So get down here and get us.”
  “I don’t want to spend time in jail because you can’t salve your conscience, Harry.”
  “What about your conscience?” I shot back. Nick was all bluster. When it came down to the wire, he couldn’t have left the girl alone in that part of town, either.
  Nick growled out something that sounded vaguely obscene, then said, “Fine, whatever. But I can’t get across the river very easy, so I’ll be on the far side of the bridge. All you have to do is cross the bridge with her and stay out of sight. Police patrols in the area will be looking for you. Half an hour. If you’re not there, I’m not waiting. Bad neighborhood.”
  “Have faith, man. I’ll be there.”
  We hung up without saying goodbye.
  “All right, kid,” I said. “Stop kicking me and let’s talk.”
  “To hell with you, mister,” she shouted. “Let me go before I break your leg.”
  I winced at the shrill note her voice hit, and stepped away from the phone, half-dragging and half carrying her with me, looking around nervously. The last thing I needed was a bunch of good citizens running to the kid’s aid.
  The streets were empty, gathering dark rushing in quickly to fill the spaces left by the broken streetlights. There were lights in the windows, but no one came out in response to the girl’s shouting. It was the sort of neighborhood where people looked the other way and let live.
  Ah, Chicago. You just gotta love big, sprawling American cities. Ain’t modern living grand? I could have been a real sicko, rather than just looking like one, and no one would have done anything.
  It made me feel a little sick. “Look. I know you’re angry right now, but believe me, I’m doing what’s best for you.”
  She stopped kicking and glared up at me. “How should you know what’s best for me?”
  “I’m older than you. Wiser.”
  “Then why are you wearing that coat?”
  I looked down at my big black duster, with its heavy mantle and long, canvas folds flapping around my rather spare frame. “What’s wrong with it?”
  “It belongs on the set of El Dorado,” she snapped. “Who are you supposed to be, Ichabod Crane or the Marlboro Man?”
  I snorted. “I’m a wizard.”
  She gave me a look of skepticism you can really only get from children who have recently gone through the sobering trauma of discovering that there is no Santa Claus. (Ironically, there is–but he can’t operate on the sort of scale that used to make everyone believe in him. More modern living.)
  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said.
  “I found you, didn’t I?”
  She frowned at me. “How did you find me? I thought that spot was perfect.”
  I continued walking towards the bridge. “It would have been, for another ten minutes or so. Then that dumpster would have been full of rats looking for something to eat.”
  The girl’s expression turned faintly green. “Rats?”
  I nodded. With luck, maybe I could win the kid over. “Good thing your mother had your brush in her purse. I was able to get a couple of hairs from it.”
  “So?”
  I sighed. “So, I used a little thaumaturgy and it led me straight to you. I had to walk most of the way, but straight to you.”
  “Thauma-what?”
  Questions were better than kicks, any day. I kept answering them. Heck, I like to answer questions about magic. Professional pride, maybe. “Thaumaturgy. It’s ritual magic. You draw symbolic links between actual persons, places, or events, and representative models. Then you invest a little energy to make something happen on the small scale, and something happens on the large scale as well–”
  The kid bent her head the second I was distracted with answering her question and bit my hand.
  I yelled something I probably shouldn’t have around a kid, and jerked my hand away. The kid dropped to the ground, agile as a monkey, and took off towards the bridge. I shook my hand, growled at myself and took off after her. She was fast, her pigtails flying out behind her, shoes and stained knee-socks flashing.
  She got to the bridge first, an ancient, two-lane affair that arched over the Chicago river and hurled herself out onto it.
  “Wait!” I shouted after her. “Don’t!” She didn’t know this town like I did.
  “Sucker,” she called back, her voice merry. She kept on running.
  That is, until a great, rubbery, hairy arm slithered out from beneath a manhole cover at the apex of the bridge and wrapped its greasy fingers around one of her ankles. The kid screamed in sudden terror, pitching forward onto the asphalt and raking the skin from both knees. Blood shone dark on her socks in the glow of the few functioning streetlights.
  I cursed, beneath my breath and raced towards her along the bridge, lungs laboring. The hand tightened its grip, and started dragging her back and towards the manhole. I could hear deep, growling laughter coming from the darkness in the hole that led down to the understructure of the bridge.
  She screamed, “What is it, what is it, make it let go!”
  “Kid!” I shouted. I ran towards the manhole, jumped, and came down as hard as I could on the hairy arm, right at the wrist, the heels of both hiking boots thumping down onto the grimy flesh.
  A bellow erupted from the manhole, and the fingers loosened. The girl twisted her leg, and though it cost her one of her expensive Oxfords and one knee sock, she dragged herself free of its grasp, sobbing. I gathered her up and backpedaled away, turning so that I wasn’t leaving my back to the manhole.
  The troll shouldn’t have been able to squeeze its way out of a hole that small, but it did. First came that grimy arm, followed by a lumpy shoulder, and then its malformed head and hideous face. It looked at me and growled, jerking its way out of the hole with a rubbery ease, until it stood in the middle of the bridge between me and the far side of the river, like some professional wrestler who had fallen victim to a correspondence course for plastic surgeons. In one hand, he held a meat cleaver approximately two feet long, with a bone handle and suspicious-looking stains of dark brown on it.
  “Harry Dresden,” the troll rumbled. “Wizard deprive Gogoth of his lawful prey.” He whipped the cleaver left and right. It made a little whistling sound.
  I lifted my chin and set my jaw. It’s never smart to let a troll see that you’re afraid of him. “What are you talking about, Gogoth? You know as well as I do that mortals aren’t all fair game any more. The Unseelie Accords settled that.”
  The troll’s face split into a truly disgusting leer. “Naughty children,” he rumbled. “Naughty children still mine.” He narrowed his eyes, and they started burning with malicious hunger. “Give! Now!” The troll rolled towards me a few paces, gathering momentum.
  I lifted my right hand, forced out a little will, and the silver ring upon my third finger abruptly shone with a clear, cool light, brighter than the illumination around us.
  “Law of the jungle, Gogoth,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “Survival of the fittest. You take another step and you’re going to land smack in the ‘too stupid to live’ category.”
  The troll growled, not slowing, and raised one meaty fist.
  “Think about it, darkspawn,” I snarled. The light pouring from my ring took on a hellish, almost nuclear tone. “One more step and you’re vapor.”
  The troll came to a lumbering halt, and its rubber-slime lips drew back from fetid fangs. “No,” he snarled. Drool slithered down his fangs and spattered on the asphalt as it stared at the girl. “She is mine. Wizard cannot interfere in this.”
  “Oh yeah?” I said. “Watch me.” And with that, I lowered my hand (and with it the fierce silver light), gave the troll my best sneer, and turned in a flare of my dark duster to walk back to North Avenue with long, confident strides. The girl stared over my shoulder, her eyes wide.
  “Is he coming after us?” I asked, quietly.
  She blinked back at the troll, and then at me. “Uh, no. He’s just staring at you.”
  “Okay. If he starts this way, let me know.”
  “So you can vapor him?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
  “Hell, no. So we can run.”
  “But what about . . .?” She touched the ring on my hand.
  “I lied, kid.”
  “What!?”
  “I lied,” I repeated. “I’m not a good liar, but trolls aren’t too bright. It was just a light show, but he fell for it, and that’s all that counts.”
  “I thought you said you were a wizard,” she accused me.
  “I am,” I replied, annoyed. “A wizard who was at a seance-slash-exorcism before breakfast. Then I had to find two wedding rings and a set of car keys, and then I spent the rest of my day running after you. I’m pooped.”
  “You couldn’t blow that . . . that thing up?”
  “It’s a troll. Sure I could,” I said, cheerfully. “If I wasn’t so worn out, and if I was able to focus enough to keep from blowing myself up along with him. My aim’s bad when I’m this tired.”
  We reached the edge of the bridge, and, I hoped, Gogoth’s territory. I started to swing the girl down. She was too big to be carrying. Then I saw her one bare foot dangling, and the blood forming into dark scabs on her knees. I sighed, and started walking along North Avenue. If I could go down the long city block to the next bridge, cross it and make back down the other block within half an hour, I could still meet Nick on the other side.
  “How’s your leg?” I asked.
  She shrugged, though her face was pained. “Okay, I guess. Was that thing for real?”
  “You bet,” I said.
  “But it was . . . It wasn’t . . .”
  “Human,” I said. “No. But hell, kid. A lot of people I know aren’t really human. Look
  around us. Bundy, Manson, those other animals. Right here in Chicago, you’ve got the Vargassis working out of Little Italy, the Jamaican posses, others. Animals. World’s full of them.”
  The girl sniffed. I glanced at her face. She looked sad, and too wise for her years. My heart softened.
  “I know,” she said. “My parents are like that, a little. They don’t think about anyone else, really. Just themselves. Not even each other–except what they can do for one another. And I’m just some toy that should get stuck in the closet and dragged out when people come over, so I can be prettier and more perfect than their toys. The rest of the time, I’m in their way.”
  “Hey, come on,” I said. “It’s not that bad, is it?”
  She glanced at me, and then away. “I’m not going back to them,” she said. “I don’t care who you are or what you can do. You can’t make me go back to them.”
  “There’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “I’m not going to leave you down here.”
  “I heard you talking to your friend,” she said. “My parents are trying to screw you over. Why are you still doing this?”
  “I have another six months to work for a licensed investigator before I can get a license of my own. And I got this stupid thing about leaving kids in the middle of big, mean cities after dark.”
  “At least down here, no one tries to lie and tell me that they care, mister. I see all these Disney shows about how much parents love their kids. How there’s some sort of magical bond of love. But its a lie. Like you and that troll.” She laid her head against my shoulder, and I could feel the exhaustion in her body as she sagged against me. “There’s no magic.”
  I fell silent for several paces, just carrying her. It was hard to hear that from a kid. A ten year old girl’s world should be full of music and giggling and notes and dolls and dreams. Not harsh, barren, jaded reality. If there was no light in the heart of a child, a little girl like this, then what hope do any of us have?
  A few paces later, I realized something that I hadn’t been admitting to myself. A quiet, cool little voice had been trying to tell me something that I hadn’t been willing to listen to. I was in the business of wizardry to try to help people. To try to make things better. But no matter how many evil spirits I confronted, no matter how many would-be black magicians I tracked down, there was always something else, worse, waiting for me in the dark. No matter how many lost children I found, there would always be ten times as many who disappeared for good.
  No matter how much I did, how much trash I cleaned up, it was only a drop in the ocean.
  Heavy thoughts for a guy like me, tired and beaten, my arms heavy with the girl’s weight.
  Flashing lights made me look up. The mouth to one of the alleys between the buildings had been sealed off with police tape and four cars, blue bulbs a-whirl, were parked on the street around the alley. A couple of EMTs were toting a covered shape out of the alley on a stretcher. The flashing strobes of cameras lit the alleyway in bursts of white.
  I came to a stop, hesitant.
  “What?” the girl murmured.
  “Police. Maybe I should hand you over.”
  I felt her weary shrug. “They’re only going to take me home. I don’t care.” She sagged against me again.
  I swallowed. The Astors were Chicago’s elite crowd. They carried enough clout around the old town to get a bum would-be private investigator put away for a good long time. And they could afford the best of lawyers.
  _It’s a lousy world, Dresden_, the cool little voice told me. _And the good guys don’t win unless they have an expensive attorney, too. You’d be in jail before you could blink_.
  My mouth twisted into a bitter smile as one of the uniform cops, a woman, noticed me and cast a long frown in my direction. I turned around and started walking the other way.
  “Hey,” the cop said. I kept walking. “Hey!” she said again, and I heard brisk footsteps on the sidewalk.
  I hurried along into the dark, and stepped into the first alley. The shadows behind a pile of crates created an ideal refuge, and I carried the girl into it with me. I crouched there in the darkness, and waited, while the cop’s footsteps came near and then passed on by.
  I waited in the dark, and felt all the heaviness and darkness settle into my skin, into my flesh. The girl just shivered and lay against me, unmoving.
  “Just leave me,” she said, finally. “Go over the bridge. It will let you cross the bridge if I’m not with you.”
  “Yes.” I said.
  “So go on. I’ll walk up to the police after you’re gone. Or something.”
  She was lying. I’m not sure how I could tell, but I could.
  She would go to the bridge.
  I’m told that bravery is doing what you need to do, even when you’re afraid. But sometimes I wonder if courage isn’t a lot more complicated than that. Sometimes, I think, courage is pulling yourself up off the ground one more time. Doing one more set of paperwork, even when you don’t want to. Maybe that’s just plain stubbornness, I don’t know.
  It didn’t matter. Not to me. I’m a wizard. I don’t really belong here. Our world sucks. It might suit the trolls and the vampires and all those nasty, leering things that haunt our nightmares (while we clutch our physics books to our chests and reassure ourselves that they cannot exist), but I’m not a part of it. I won’t be a part of it.
  I took a breath, in the dark, and asked, “What’s your name?”
  She was silent for a moment, and then said, in a very uncertain voice, “Faith.”
  “Faith,” I said. I smiled, so that she could hear it. “My name’s Harry Dresden.”
  “Hi,” she said, her voice a whisper.
  “Hi. Have you ever seen something like this?” I cupped my hand, summoned some of the last dregs of my power, and cast a warm, glowing light into the ring on my right hand. It lit Faith’s face, and I could see on her smooth cheeks the streaks of the tears I had not heard.
  She shook her head.
  “Here,” I said, and took the ring from my finger. Then slipped it onto hers, over her right thumb, where it hung a bit loose. The light died away as I did it, leaving us in the dark again. “Let me show you something.”
  “Battery went out,” she mumbled. “I don’t have money for another one.”
  “Faith? Do you remember the very best day of your life?”
  She was quiet for a minute. Then she said, her voice a bare whisper, “Yes. A Christmas. When Gremma was still alive. Gremma was nice to me.”
  “Tell me about it,” I urged, quietly, and covered her hand with my own.
  I felt her shrug. “Gremma came over Christmas Eve. We played games. She would play with me. And we stayed up, on the floor by the Christmas tree, waiting for Santa Claus. She let me open just one present, for Christmas eve. It was one she’d gotten me.”
  Faith took a shuddering breath. “It was a dolly. A real baby-dolly. Mother and Father had gotten me Barbie stuff, the whole line for that year. They said that if I left them all in the original boxes that they would be worth a lot of money, later. But Gremma listened to what I really wanted.” Then I heard it, the tiny smile in her voice. “Gremma cared about me.”
  I moved my hand, and a soft, pinkish light flowed up out of the ring around her thumb, a loving, gentle warmth. I heard Faith draw in a little gasp of surprise, and then a delighted smile spread over her mouth.
  “But how?” she whispered.
  I gave her a smile. “Magic,” I said. “The best kind. A little light in the dark.”
  She looked up at me, studying my face, my eyes. I shied away from the perception of that gaze. “I need to go back, don’t I?” she asked.
  I brushed a stray bit of hair from her forehead. “There are people who love you, Faith. Or who one day will. Even if you can’t see them beside you, right here, right now, they’re out there. But if you let the dark get into your eyes, you might never find them. So it’s best to keep a little light with you, along the way. Do you think you can remember that?”
  She nodded up at me, her face lit by the light from the ring.
  “Whenever it gets too dark, think of the good things you have, the good times you’ve had. It will help. I promise.”
  She leaned against me and gave me a simple, trusting hug. I felt my cheeks warm up as she did. Aw, shucks.
  “We need to go,” I told her. “We’ve got to get across the bridge and meet my friend Nick.”
  She chewed on her lip, her expression immediately worried. “But the troll.”
  I winked. “Leave him to me.”
  The girl didn’t feel anywhere near so heavy as I carried her back. I studied the bridge as we approached. Maybe, if I was lucky, I’d be able to sprint across without the troll being able to stop me.
  Yeah. And maybe one day I’d go to an art museum and become well-rounded.
  Bridges are a troll’s specialty. Whether because of some magic or just because of aptitude, you never get across the bridge without facing the troll. That’s life, I guess.
  I set the girl down on the ground next to me, and stepped out onto the bridge. “All right, Faith,” I said. “Whatever happens, you run across that bridge. My friend Nick is going to pull up on the far side any minute now.”
  “What about you?”
  I gave her a casual roll of my neck. “I’m a wizard,” I said. “I can handle him.”
  Faith gave me another look of supreme skepticism, and fumbled to hold my hand. Her fingers felt very small and very warm inside of mine, and a fierce surge of determination coursed through me. No matter what happened, I would let no harm come to this child.
  We walked out onto the bridge. The few lights that had been burning brightly earlier were gone. Gogoth’s work, doubtless. Night reigned over the bridge and the Chicago river gurgled by, smooth and cold and black below us.
  “I’m scared,” Faith whispered.
  “He’s just a big bully,” I told her, “Face him down and he’ll back off.” Which I hoped, very much, was true. We kept walking and skirted wide around the manhole at the apex of the bridge, me keeping my body between Faith and the entrance to the troll’s lair.
  Gogoth must have been counting on that.
  I heard Faith scream again and whirled my head to see the troll’s thick, hairy arm stretched up over the edge of the bridge, while the troll clung to its side like some huge and overweight spider. I snarled and stomped his fingers once more, and the troll bellowed in rage. Faith slipped free and I half-hurled her towards the far side of the bridge. “Run, Faith!”
  The troll’s arm swept my legs out from beneath me and it came surging up over the railing at the side of the bridge, too supple and swift for its bulk. Its burning eyes focused on the fleeing Faith, and more of its slimy drool spattered out of its mouth. It scythed its cleaver through the air and crouched to leap after the child.
  I got my feet under me, screamed, and threw myself at the troll’s leg, swinging my long legs around to tangle with the creature’s. It roared in fury and went down in a tumble with me. I heard myself cackling and decided, without a doubt, that I had at least one screw loose.
  The troll caught me by the corner of my jacket and threw me against the railing hard enough to make me see stars.
  “Wizard,” Gogoth snarled, spitting drool and foam. The cleaver swept the air again and the troll stalked towards me. “Now you die and Gogoth chew you bones.”
  I gathered myself to my feet, but it was too late. There was no way I could run, or throw myself over the railing in time.
  Faith screamed, “Harry!” and a brilliant flash of pink light flooded the bridge and made the troll whip its ugly head towards the far side of the river. I ducked to my left and ran, towards Faith and away from the troll. I looked up, and saw Nick’s car roaring towards the bridge at enough speed to tell me that my partner had seen that something was going on.
  The troll followed me, and though I had gained a few paces on it, I had the sinking realization that the beast was lighter on its feet than I was. There was a whistling sound of the cleaver cutting air, and I felt something skim past my scalp. I bobbed to my right, ducking, and the second swipe missed by an even narrower margin. I stumbled, and fell, and the troll was on top of me in a heartbeat. I rolled in time to see it lift its bloodstained cleaver high above it, to feel its drool splatter onto my chest.
  “Wizard!” the troll bellowed.
  There was a yell and then the cop, the one who had followed us before, hurled herself onto the troll’s back and locked her nightstick across his throat. She gave the stick a practiced twist, and the troll’s eyes bulged. The huge cleaver clanged as it tumbled from Gogoth’s grip and hit the pavement.
  The cop leaned back, making the troll’s spine arch into a bow–but this wasn’t a man she was dealing with. The thing twisted his head, squirmed, and popped out of her grip, then opened his jaws in frenzied roar that literally blew the patrolman’s cap off of her head and sent her stumbling back with a wide-eyed stare. The troll, maddened, slammed one fist into the pavement, cracking it, and drew the other back to drive towards her skull.
  “Hey ugly,” I shouted.
  The troll turned in time to see me grunt and swing the massive cleaver at its side.
  The rotten, grimy flesh just beneath its ribs split open with a howl of sound and a burst of motion. Gogoth leaned his head back and let out a high-pitched, wailing yowl. I backed off, knowing what came next.
  The poor cop stared in white-faced horror as the troll’s wound split and dozens, hundreds, thousands of tiny, wriggling figures poured out of the split in its flesh, squalling and squealing. The massive thews of the beast deflated like old basketballs, slowly sinking in upon themselves as the bridge became littered with a myriad of tiny trolls, their ugly little heads no bigger than a president on a coin. They poured out of Gogoth in a flood, spilling onto the bridge in a writhing, wriggling horde.
  The troll’s cheeks sunk, and its eyes vanished. Its mouth opened in a slack-jawed yawn, and, as the leathery, grimy sack of tiny trolls emptied, it sank to the ground until it lay there like a discarded, disgusting raincoat.
  The cop stared, mouth wide, attempting to form words of a prayer or a curse. Nick’s headlights whirled and spilled across the bridge, and with twice ten thousand screams of protest, the tiny trolls dispersed before the light in all directions.
  A few seconds later, there were only myself, Faith, the cop, and Nick, approaching us across the bridge. Faith threw herself at me and gave me a quick hug around the waist. Her eyes were bright with excitement. “That was the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. I want to be a wizard when I grow up.”
  “That was. . . was . . .” the cop said, stunned. She was short, stocky, and the loss of her cap revealed tightly braided, pale hair.
  I winked down at Faith, and nodded to the cop. “A troll. I know.” I walked over to the cap and dusted it off. A few trolls, squealing protest, fell to the street and scampered away. The cop watched with stunned eyes. “Hey, thanks a lot for the help officer . . .” I squinted down at her badge. “Murphy.” I smiled and offered her the hat.
  She took it with numb fingers. “Oh, Jesus. I really have lost it.” She blinked a few times and then scowled up at my face. “You. You’re the perp on the Astor kidnaping.”
  I opened my mouth to defend myself, but I needn’t have bothered.
  “Are you kidding?” Faith Astor sneered. “This. . . buffoon? Kidnap me? He couldn’t bum a cigarette off the Marlboro man.” She turned towards me and gave me a wink. Then offered both her wrists out to Murphy. “I admit it, officer. I ran away. Take me to the pokey and throw away the key.”
  Murphy, to her credit, seemed to be handling things fairly well for someone who had just confronted the monster under the bed. She recovered her nightstick and went to Faith, examining her for injuries before directing a suspicious gaze at Nick and me.
  “Hoo boy,” Nick said, planting his stocky bulk squarely beside mine. “Here it comes. You get the top bunk, stilts, but I’m not going to pick up your soap in the shower.”
  The cop looked at me and Nick. Then at the girl. Then, more thoughtfully, at the leathery lump that had been Gogoth the troll. Her eyes flashed back to Nick and me and she said, “Aren’t you two the ones who run Ragged Angel? The agency that looks for lost kids.”
  “I run it,” Nick said, his voice resigned. “He works for me.”
  “Yeah, what he said,” I threw in, just to let Nick know that he wasn’t going to the big house alone.
  Murphy nodded, and eyed the girl. “Are you all right, honey?”
  Faith sniffed, and smiled up at Murphy. “A little hungry, and I could use something to clean up these scrapes. But other than that, I’m quite well.”
  “And these two didn’t kidnap you?”
  Faith snorted. “Please.”
  Murphy nodded and then jabbed her nightstick at Nick and me. “I got to call this in. You two vanish before my partner gets here.” She glanced down at Faith, and winked. Faith grinned up at her in return.
  Murphy took the girl back towards the far side of the bridge, and the other police units. Nick and I ambled back towards his car. Nick’s broad, honest face was set in an expression of nervous glee. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “I can’t believe that happened. Was that the troll, what’s-his-name?”
  “That was Gogoth,” I said cheerfully. “Nothing bigger than a bread crumb is going to be bothered by trolls on this bridge for a long, long time.”
  “I can’t believe it,” Nick said again. “I thought we were so dead. I can’t believe it.”
  I glanced back over the bridge. On the far side, the girl was standing up on her tiptoes, waving. Soft pink light flowed from the ring on her right thumb. I could see the smile on her face. The cop was watching me, too, her expression thoughtful. It turned into a smile.
  Modern living might suck. And the world we’ve made can be a dark place. But at least I don’t have to be there alone.
  I put an arm around Nick’s shoulders, and grinned at him. “It’s like I keep telling you, man. You’ve got to have faith.”


  END

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发表于 2015-2-20 10:58:20 | 显示全部楼层
  翻译流畅通顺(英文我还是看得疙疙瘩瘩,还得搭配字典)。
  原来这就是贵族啊,他们第一分钟委托穷人做事情、第二分钟指使警察去对付穷人、第三分钟就会付钱给律师证明他们对付穷人是有正当理由了。贵族对穷人翻脸比点钞机点钞还快,嗯哼嗯哼,贵族+警察+律师VS穷人,穷人要倒霉了。不过本次事件中警察没有按照贵族的意思做事,也没有劳烦到律师出场。哈利和尼克不用坐监,菲思就还要回去继续面对冷血父母……
 楼主| 发表于 2015-2-20 15:41:58 | 显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 楼革 于 2015-2-20 15:44 编辑
3875 发表于 2015-2-20 10:58
  翻译流畅通顺(英文我还是看得疙疙瘩瘩,还得搭配字典)。
  原来这就是贵族啊,他们第一分钟委托穷 ...

没事的,菲思有了哈利的开导和戒指,还有黑暗中的一抹光,她会长成一个坚强的女人的。哈利虽然穷,但他可是个巫师!在小说正传里,他和玛菲警官构筑了坚定的友谊。希望永远就在那里,只要有希望,再残酷的现实也会闪现光亮。
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