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

occasions. Shouldn't that be love potions? Toby thought vaguely. He checked the small print
for mention of pheromones and the like, but the letter seemed entirely serious and
straightforward. There was even a money-back guarantee. The sliding scale of prices was
entirely reasonable, so Toby put that letter on one side too, for further thought.
Next: turn lead into gold! Crush coal into diamonds! Split the atom with a single blow!
Gain mastery over the material world with the Junior Alchemist's Set! A philosopher's stone
included with every kit! (Subject to availability.) We take Visa and Mastercard. Parent or
guardian's signature required. Allow six moons for delivery. Toby blinked at that one for a
while, and put it on one side.
Finally: you may already be a Superhero! Send for the origin of your choice. Design your
own costume or choose from our wide range of cloaks, tights and masks. Rubber and leather
a speciality. Return this form before the end of the month and choose two extra powers, one
from Column A and one . . . Toby screwed that one into a ball and binned it with more than
necessary force. Someone was winding him up. Had to be.
He turned on the radio. The news was almost universally depressing, as usual, and he felt
on firmer ground again.
He pottered around the house for a while, wandering into rooms and out again, but he
couldn't settle. The feeling of restlessness was getting worse. More and more he felt he should
be somewhere else, doing something . . . important. That this Saturday, this morning, was
important. Which was odd, because he'd never thought of himself or his life as mattering a
damn to anyone, even him. He was just another faceless drone, a small cog in a small wheel
that kept other wheels turning because . . . well, wheels had to turn, or where would we all
be? The sudden bitterness in that thought surprised him; the teeling that he could have made
something of his life, but somehow never had.
He sniffed. That was what hitting your thirties did for you. It made you bloody morbid.
He fought the restlessness for another half an hour, but in the end it forced him out of the
house. He pulled on his new leather jacket, and slammed the front door behind him just a
little harder than was really necessary to make the lock catch. Truth be told, it was a bit warm
for the jacket, but he liked the creaking sounds it made as he moved. He looked around him.
It was a bright sunny day, but no one else seemed to be about. An impulse made him look up,
and he was astonished to see an absolutely huge rainbow glimmering against the deep blue
sky. The colours were almost painfully sharp and distinct, and the great arch seemed to fly up
into the sky for ever. The earth-fixed end seemed so close he felt as though he could walk
right up to it, and the whole thing was so damned beautiful his breath caught in his chest like
it would never let go. In all his life, he'd never seen a rainbow like it. In the end, he tore his
gaze away and walked off down the road, heading into town.
Something was calling him.
And as he walked through the town, everything was utterly familiar yet subtly different.
The streets and the houses and the sights were all the same as they had ever been, but it was
like seeing them afresh, as though he was recognising them again after many years away.
This was the same route he'd taken the night before, plodding home through the pouring rain,
but now he felt like a stranger in his own town. There was a charge, a tension, on the air,
something he could feel but could not put a name to. Home didn't feel like home any more. It
occurred to him that this was the kind of perfect summer day you usually only saw in films;
all bright and sharp and Technicolor dazzle, with every detail spot on. The birds were all
singing in tune, there was hardly any traffic on the road (unheard-of for a Saturday morning),
and the air ... had a charge to it, a feeling of anticipation. Toby was surprised to find that there
was actually a spring in his step as he headed for the town centre.
And yet he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong . . . out of place. Some
of the houses he was passing didn't seem quite as he remembered them. There were too many