"Hamilton, Laurell - Blake 01 - Guilty Pleasures" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Laurell K)

Nikolaos said, "Did you not recognize a fellow animator?" She laughed, lightly, a breeze of far-off bells.
I glanced at Zachary's face. He was staring at me, eyes ` memorizing me. Face blank, with a thread of something making the skin under one eye jump. Anger, fear? Then he smiled at me, brilliant, echoing. Again there was that shock of recognition.
"Ask your question, Nikolaos. He has to answer now."
"Is that true?" she asked me.
I hesitated, surprised that she had turned to me. "Yes."
"Who killed the vampire, Lucas?"
He stared at her, face crumbling. His breathing was shallow and too fast.
"Why doesn't he answer me?"
"The question is too complex," Zachary explained. "He may not remember who Lucas is."
"Then you ask him the questions, and I expect him to answer." Her voice was warm with threat.
Zachary turned with a flourish, spreading arms wide. "Ladies .` and gentlemen, behold, the undead." He grinned at his own joke. No one else even smiled. I didn't get it either.
"Did you see a vampire murdered?"
The zombie nodded. "Yes."
"How was he murdered?"
"Heart torn out, head cut off." His voice was paper-thin with fear.
"Who tore out his heart?"
The zombie started to shake his head over and over, quick, . jerky movements. "Don't know, don't know."
"Ask him what killed the vampire," I said.
Zachary shot me a look. His eyes were green glass. Bones stood out in his face. Rage sculpted him into a skeleton with canvas skin.
"This is my zombie, my business!"
"Zachary," Nikolaos said.
He turned to her, movements stiff.
"It is a good question. A reasonable question." Her voice was low, calm. No one was fooled. Hell must be full of voices like that. Deadly, but oh so reasonable.
"Ask her question, Zachary."
He turned back to the zombie, hands balled into fists. I didn't understand where the anger was coming from. "What killed the vampire?"
"Don't understand." The voice held a knife's edge of panic.
"What sort of creature tore out the heart? Was it a human?"
"No."
"Was it another vampire?"
"No."
This was why zombies still didn't do well in court. You had to lead them by the hand, so to speak, to get answers. Lawyers accused you of leading the witness. Which was true, but it didn't mean the zombie was lying.
"Then what killed the vampire?"
Again that head shaking, back and forth, back and forth. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He seemed to be choking on the words, as if someone had stuffed paper down his throat. "Can't!"
"What do you mean, can't?" Zachary screamed it at him and slapped him across the face. The zombie threw up its arms to cover its head. "You . . . will . . . answer . . . me." Each word was punctuated with a slap.
The zombie fell to its knees and started to cry. "Can't!"
"Answer me, damn you!" He kicked the zombie, and it collapsed to the ground, rolling into a tight ball.
"Stop it" I walked towards them. "Stop it!"
He kicked the zombie one last time and turned on me. "It's my zombie! I can do what I want with him."
"That used to be a human being. It deserves more respect than this." I knelt by the crying zombie. I felt Zachary looming over me.
Nickolaos said, "Leave her alone, for now."
He stood there like an angry shadow pressing over my back. I touched the zombie's arm. It flinched. "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you." Not going to hurt you. He had killed himself to escape. But not even the grave was sanctuary enough. Before tonight I would have said no animator would have raised the dead for such a purpose. Sometimes the world is a worse place than I want to know about.
I had to peel the zombie's hands from his face, then turn the face up to stare at me. One look was enough. Dark eyes were incredibly wide, fear, such fear. A thin line of spittle oozed from his mouth.
I shook my head and stood. "You've broken him."
"Damn right. No damn zombie is going to make a fool of me. He'll answer the questions."
I whirled to stare at the man's angry eyes. "Don't you understand? You've broken his mind."
"Zombies don't have minds."
"That's right, they don't. All they have, and for a very short time, is the memory of what they were. If you treat them well, they can retain their personalities for maybe a week, a little more, but this . . ." I pointed at the zombie, then spoke to Nikolaos. "Ill treatment will speed the process. Shock will destroy it."
"What are you saying, animator?"
"This sadist"-I jabbed a thumb at Zachary-"has destroyed the zombie's mind. It won't be answering any more questions. Not for anyone, not ever."
Nikolaos turned like a pale storm. Her eyes were blue glass. Her words filled the room with a soft burning. "You arrogant.. ." A tremor ran through her body, from small, slippered feet to long white-blonde hair. I waited for the wooden chair to catch fire and blaze from the fine heat of her anger.