"Simon R. Green - Nightside 1 - Drinking Midnight Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Simon R)

documentary crews, making programmes called Town of Terror, or The Hippies from Hell. And I'll get
called on to do another bloody part-work on them...'
Leo was looking at the dead man again. He'd been hoping against hope that his old friend Reed
might have gone away by now, or at least had the good manners to be just an illusion, but no; it
was looking more and more like Leo was going to have to Do Something. Reed had made his slow way
over to the long wooden bar, and was staring uncertainly at the rows of spirits on the wall
behind, as though sure they'd once meant something to him. People walked by him unconcernedly, and
even pushed past him to give their orders, but so far no one had recognised him for who and what
he was. On the rare occasions when the unnatural insisted on pushing its way into the real world,
people mostly tended to ignore it for as long as possible. Leo sighed heavily and put down his
glass. He wasn't thirsty any more.
The dead shouldn't be able to walk in Veritie. It took a lot of magical power to raise the dead
from their graves, and even more to keep control of them once they were up and about. And there
was no magic in the real world: that was the point. Leo, however, being a hybrid derived from both
worlds, could see more than most. In particular, he could see the magical field currently
surrounding the dead man, containing him like a soap bubble, insulating what he was from the
implacable laws of physics in the real world. Leo didn't even want to think about how much power
such a field would take up. Reality was not easily defied, and even then not without terrible
cost, for somebody. Leo knew most of the heavy-duty movers and shakers in the magical world, but
unfortunately far too many of them knew him. And they certainly wouldn't take kindly to him
pushing his nose in where it wasn't wanted.
Leo grinned suddenly. It was a wide, unpleasant, distinctly wolfish smile, and the people sitting
around him shrank back in their seats a little, giving him more room, in case he decided to do
something unpleasant. Leo tried to be a nice guy, but he wasn't at all averse to being a complete
bastard when necessary. This wasn't just any dead man. This was his friend, Reed. Leo had many
acquaintances, but few friends; even he knew that when someone drags your friend up out of his
grave, you're supposed to do something about it. Leo felt like doing something very nasty. The
more he considered the matter, the less he liked it. He didn't know a lot about zombies, apart
from what he'd seen in bad Italian horror movies, but he knew they tended to come in two basic
versions. One was just an empty shell, an untenanted body being operated at some remove by someone
else. Which was disrespectful, if nothing else. Leo felt he could give someone a serious slapping
for that. But there was an even worse alternative. Reed's soul could still be trapped inside his
decaying body, a helpless victim under someone else's control. Endlessly suffering, denied his
rightful rest, just because some heartless bastard had a use for him. Leo's mouth widened, his
lips thinning as his smile became a snarl. Around him the arty set began getting to their feet and
making noises like Well, look at the time, and I really must be going. Leo didn't notice. His
anger had escalated from hot to boiling to ice cold in just a few seconds. Someone was going to
pay for what had been done to Reed. No one messed with a friend of Leo Morn and lived to boast of
it.
Reed used to drink here, at the Dandy Lion. If he stood around long enough, people would be forced
to notice him. And some might even recognise him, and that was when the screaming would start.
Real people might like to titillate themselves with ghost stories and crop circles and the like,
but when faced with the unreal thing, they couldn't cope at all. It destroyed their ideas about
how the universe worked.
Leo decided it was time he talked with his Brother Under The Hill.
'Brother,' he said, in his mind. 'I have a problem. The shit is in the air, and it's right on
course for the fan.'
It's your own fault, said the other voice in his mind. I told you she was never sixteen. Tell me
you used a condom at least.
'Get your mind out of the gutter. I'm sitting in the Dandy Lion...'