"Elrod, P N - Jack Fleming - The Vampire Files 01 - Bloodlist" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

Scanned by Highroller.

Proofed more or less by Highroller.

Made prettier by MollyKates/Cinnamons style sheet.

Bloodlist by P.N. Elrod
=======================

Chapter 1
=========

THE CAR WAS doing at least forty when the right front fender smashed
against my left hip and sent me spinning off the road to flop bonelessly
into a mass of thick, windblown grass.

It was a well-engineered accident, involving no small skill on the part
of the driver. A body, depending on its size and weight in relation to
the speed and position of the car usually does two things: it either
goes under the car or bounces over it. Going under, it can get dragged,
leaving a lot of bloody physical evidence all over the road and vehicle.
If it gets flipped up and over, the driver risks a dented hood and roof
or a broken windshield or all three. The professional hit-and-run artist
knows how to avoid such risks and will try to clip the target with just
the front bumper or fender; that way he has only some scratched paint to
touch up or at most a broken headlight to replace.

I had been hit by such an expert. There was minimal pain, though, and
that was swiftly receding. The idea my spine had been broken was the
first real thought to surface in my cobweb-clogged brain since I woke up
on the beach. I'd been groggy then, with only enough stuff working in my
head to shakily stand and blink down at my soaked clothes. It never
occurred to me to question why I was on a beach and in such a condition,
and I was still in a thought-numbing state of shock when I climbed a
short, sandy rise and found the road. There was no rational decision on
what direction to go in, my legs took me left and walked. When I heard a
car motor rumbling up behind me I stuck out a thumb and walked sideways.

The small dot down the road swelled into a dark green Ford with a big
lumpy-looking man at the wheel. While still a little distance off, the
car slowed abruptly, its headlights raking painfully into my eyes. I
shaded them, blinking stupidly as the motor gunned, gears shifted, and
the thing shot forward. The driver held a straight course, as though
he'd changed his mind about picking up a hitchhiker, then he swerved at
the last possible second. If my brain had been running on more than one
cylinder. I might have been able to jump away in time.

The landscape stopped spinning and I lay belly-up, staring at an
unnaturally brilliant Milky Way a few feet from my nose, wondering what
the hell was going on. I tried moving a little, the initial pain of the