"Friesner, Esther M. - Elf Defense" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

Elf Defense
by Esther M. Friesner

Aloud he said, "Come on, Cass, trade places and take a turn at the wheel. You heard Amanda: she wants me."

"She doesn't know what she wants. I have to stay back here with her! You don't know all that must be done if we're going to be safe. You might get careless. ..."

"I might drive this stinking car into a ditch if the rain gets any worse! I can be just as careful as you, if you tell me what to watch, but I can't see to drive as well as you can in this storm." Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky-bowl, thunder answered, and the rain gusted harder against the windows, as if to back up his words. "Please, Cass. You can get us there faster. And we've got a long way yet to go."

A loud snort of disgust came from the backseat. "All right, all right, I'll take the wheel. You've made your point." Two doors opened almost simultaneously, though only Cass slammed his shut once he was outside. He and Jeff circled the car, exchanging places, while the windshield wipers continued their hopeless task and Amanda pressed her knuckles against her teeth until Jeff was beside her. She welcomed him joyfully. Cass heard, and winced a little, in spite of all his good intentions to learn self-control.

Jeff shifted noisily, sitting down on the thick sheet of clear plastic covering the entire backseat and furled over most of the floor. It was a painter's drop cloth, the biggest and most durable they could find. Amanda grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. Her grasp stemmed a stream of mild profanity as he struggled to get comfortable on the clinging stuff, made him forget all about his own minor discomfort.

"How are you, babe?" he asked. Nothing mattered but easing her pain.

Amanda smiled a little and bent her head to rest on his shoulder. His arm around her was all the shelter her soul needed. "A little hot - all this plastic - but what can we do? It's necessary. I'll be fine. We'll all be fine." She kissed him, then met Cass's extraordinary blue eyes fixed on her in the rearview mirror. "Please start the car, Cass. I'll tell Jeff what he's got to do."

"He's done enough already," Cass mumbled under his breath. They didn't hear him. He turned off the overhead light. The engine rumbled to life and the car rolled back onto the road. The storm continued unchecked. There was even more force behind the lashing wind now. The raindrops sounded like hail against the windshield, but the car roared on as fast and surely guided as if it had been full daylight and fair driving.

When they reached the small town of Jeff's memories, it was bedded down and boarded up. It wasn't hurricane season yet, but the Gulf of Mexico was capable of spawning some mighty nasty surprises. Wise Floridians knew it. Here and there, Cass glimpsed slivers of light from the buildings, shining cracks beneath incompletely closed metal shutters. Mostly, though, he saw the street lamps' fuzzy balls of brightness, silly little fire-puffs hanging against the fearsome brilliance of the lightning.

"Now where?" he asked.

"Three more blocks-no, four-and hang a left. The clinic's the pink house at the end of the street."

"All the way at the end?"

"Pass it, and you're in the bay."

"Are you sure it's still there? How long has it been since you were in this town?"

"Five years; maybe six. Listen, I sent them a nice check every Christmas, and none of 'me came back. It'll still be there. The only thing that's changed might be the paint. Just drive, Cass."

"Please, dear," Amanda put in gently.

Cass followed directions. He took the left turn a little harder than necessary, but Amanda was making those strange, terrifying sounds again. This time there was a note of imminent panic in her voice. They were running out of time. The sharpness of the turn made everything in the car shift left. Amanda cried out as Jeff pitched up against her, sliding helplessly on the plastic seat cover. In the front, the small furry shape sharing space with Cass tumbled into his thigh. He felt claws sink in deeply, a reprimand.

"Ouch! Cesare..."

"Look!" Jeff thrust his arm over Cass's right shoulder, pointing. "They've got their lights on! Someone's still inside!"

"We won't have to call. Oh, thank God!" Amanda sighed.

They were there. Jeff leaped out onto the swamped gravel drive and ran around to open Amanda's door. He offered her a hand out, an arm to lean on.'

"Be careful, you idiot! What do you think you're doing?" Cass was outside too, the rain plastering his long hair to the sides of his face. The cheap dye left black smears on his cheeks, stained the collar of his Hawaiian shin past hope. He barred Amanda's way, refusing to let her out of the car. "Here, I'll take care of her."

Standing side by side in the storm, the two worked together. Next to Jeff's robust athlete's body, Cass looked thinner than he was, almost sickly, all bones and promise. His youthful fragility made Jeff seem much older by comparison, certainly much stronger. But then he reached into the backseat, swaddled Amanda tightly in the clear plastic sheeting, and passed her into Jeff's waiting arms as easily as if she weighed no more than a kitten. Jeff carried her up the walk, struggling to keep the plastic in place, while Cass checked out the interior of the car.

"No blood," said a sleepy voice from the front seat.