"Banks, L A - Vampire Huntress 5 - 2005 - Forbidden" - читать интересную книгу автора (Banks L. A)

Knowing that he had only seconds to act before the place filled with were-demons
Yonnie concentrated every last ounce of his strength. He felt his fingertips
ignite. Every shard of broken, jagged glass behind the bar magnetized, drew
together, and became an airborne blade that he sent flying into his tormentor's
throat. Yonnie watched with no small measure of satisfaction as the wolf's call
was abruptly cut off on a gurgle of blood and the stunned expression still
remained on the were-demon's hideous, distended face when his head fell to the
floor. Black demon blood spattered the walls.
Acting quickly before the beast began to smolder and combust, Yonnie leapt down
to the floor. He needed to feed, and the shame of eating from the belly of a
beast was beyond him. But this was about survival. In one deft move he slit the
beast's abdomen, knowing that it wouldn't have attacked without feeding first.
Reaching in, he extracted a human arm and a section of torso, siphoning what
undigested human blood he could from it, then cast it away in disgust, careful
not to allow any remnants of the demon's foul blood to intermingle. Then he got
up and ran, hearing the sound of wolf calls in the distance.
A team of hunters would be on his ass with the quickness to seek retribution for
their fallen comrade. He needed someplace to lie low. If old lairs were
compromised and graveyards were impenetrable due to prayer barriers, where could
he go? Who was left? Why did all but him burn? If a master went down, the whole
line and all its assets didn't torch. At least that was myth.
Tears stung his eyes as he kept moving. His master was dead; he had to be. Then
what was the point of survival? He'd been an underling for years working for
other ruthless masters. Rivera had been the only one to treat him with respect
and dignity.
Yonnie stopped abruptly when he found himself in front of Carlos's Beverly Hills
lair. The night became his cloak as he pulled it around himself and remained
invisible. He closed his eyes, opened his arms, and slowly dropped to his knees.
His emotions crashed down on him and he wept. Carlos was missing. Stack and the
squad were gone. Their assets had disintegrated. He had been reduced to a
carrion feeder.
"Where you at, man?" Yonnie asked the night. "If you go down, we all go down!"
His voice hitched on a bitter sob. In a short time, he'd come to love Carlos
like a true blood brother. No matter what had happened, who had won, he knew
he'd follow Carlos into the very sun.
"Whoever did you, I will smoke," he promised the night. "Whoever stole from you,
I will rob. We go to war, man. For you."
Silence answered Yonnie, the stars above teasing him with their glittering
faces. It wasn't fair. Rivera had had it all. Yonnie stared at the abandoned
lair, despair filling him as he yelled his master's name. "Carlos!"

Carlos watched Marlene go to Damali's side as soon as the captain had turned the
seat belt sign off. The older woman moved with a slow grace, her steps measured,
her expression grave. Damali turned her head away, and Marlene stooped beside
her, taking Damali's hand gently within her own.
"Why don't you come to the ladies' room and let me help sponge you off?"
Marlene's voice was low, gentle, but also contained a plea, when Damali shook
her head no.
"I have fresh clothes for you." Marlene's eyes met Carlos's for a moment and
then she turned back to Damali. "You don't want that all over the seats."