"Simon R. Green - Drinking Midnight Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Simon R)

Normally I am; but whoever did this is hidden from me. Which is worrying.
'Wonderful,' said Leo. 'Don't you have any suggestions? If 1 try to drag Reed out of here, that's
going to attract the very attention we 're trying to avoid. And I really don't see him listening to reason
- oh shit . . .'
What? What?
'The Waking Beauty is glaring at me from her corner. If she's manifesting in the real world, the
situation must be even worse than we thought. From the way she's looking at me, it's clear she expects
me to do something pretty sharpish. Interfering old biddy. You are sure she can't hear us?'
Only you can hear me, Leo. Only you.
'Yeah, but this is the Waking Beauty we're talking about.'
True. She's the only creature in this town who's older than I am.
7 wish you were just a voice in my head. Life would be so much simpler if I was just crazy. Hold
everything: what was that?'
A communication had come and gone so quickly Leo couldn't overhear or track it, but the
dead man had heard and understood. He turned and walked unhurriedly out of the pub.
People got out of his way without knowing why. Leo scrambled up from behind his table,
realised for the first time that the arty set were all long gone, shrugged and set off after the
departing dead man. The mind voice hadn't lasted long, but it had still made one hell of an
impression, scoring through Leo's mind like a length of barbed wire.
Major player.
Leo emerged blinking into the bright sunshine outside the Dandy Lion and hurried after the
dead man, at what he hoped was a discreet distance. Reed strode firmly off down the hill,
people parting on either side to let him pass without seeing him. Leo tried hard to keep
thinking of his quarry as the dead man, an object rather than a person, but it wasn't easy.
Reed had been one of his few real friends. He'd gone to Reed's funeral, tried to say the right
things to the grieving relatives, had stood at the graveside and made his goodbyes; and now
Reed was up and about again, a pawn in someone else's dirty game. Leo's hands clenched into
fists at his sides. Someone was going to pay for this, and pay in blood. Leo's wolfish smile
flashed again as he considered the awful mess he was going to make of whoever had been
foolish enough to raise his anger. He didn't care how big or powerful or influential the bastard
might turn out to be. He never did. He was Leo Morn, and no one messed with him and his.
His mind filled with happy thoughts of broken bones and torn flesh and spurting blood, and
people moved aside to let him pass too.
The Brother Under The Hill maintained a neutral silence.
Leo followed the dead man through the centre of the town, and across the old bridge over
the River Avon. Green reeds poked up through the dark waters, while crowds of ducks
competed noisily for breadcrumbs thrown by tourists. A pair of pure white swans watched
disdainfully from a distance. The dead man passed the Chapel on the Bridge, a solid square of
ancient stonework jutting out over the river. It had been there so long no one now
remembered who built it, or why. Some said it had been a private chapel, others that it had
been an overnight lock-up for local drunks. There was one door, always locked, and small
barred windows. Even in Veritie, it was a squat, brooding presence. As the dead man passed
the Chapel, the Howling Thing stirred ominously.
Although it was a part of the magical world, for ever separated from reality, the Howling
Thing was still a powerful enough presence that its rage caused ripples in both worlds. People
passing the Chapel often crossed themselves, even if they didn't know why. The Howling
Thing reacted to the necromantic energies surrounding the dead man, and hurled itself
furiously at the locked door. It raged and beat against the four confining walls, old stone
sealed and consecrated by ancient sorceries, and fought to be free. Its awful voice rose and
fell, never-ending, promising revenge and retribution. It never stopped, never rested, but still