"Laurell K. Hamilton - Anita Blake 13 - Micah" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Laurell K)

"Bert's going to be pissed," Larry said. "Your rates are almost four times what mine are for a zombie
raising."

"We can't change the price in midcontract," I said.

"No"—and he almost laughed—"but Bert is going to be pissed that we didn't try."

I laughed, because he was right. Bert had been our boss, but he'd been reduced to business manager
because all the animators at Animators, Inc., had gotten together and staged a palace coup. We'd offered
him business manager or nothing. He'd taken it when he realized his income wouldn't be affected.

"I'll get the files from the office. I'll get a flight. I'll be there. You just take care of yourself and Tammy."

"Thanks, Anita. I don't know what I… I've got to go—the doctor's here." And he was gone.

I handed the phone to Nathaniel, who placed it gently in the cradle.

"How bad is it?" Micah said.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think Larry knows, not really." I started to crawl out of the covers and
the nest of warmth that their bodies made.

"Where are you going?" Micah asked.

"I've got a plane to schedule and files to find."

"Are you thinking of going out of town on a plane by yourself?" Micah asked. He was sitting up, knees
tucked to his chest, arms encircling them.

I looked back at him from the foot of the bed. "Yeah."

"When will you be back?"

"Tomorrow, or the day after."

"Then you need to book at least two seats on the plane."

It took me a moment to understand what he meant. I raised the dead and was a legal vampire
executioner. That's what the police knew for certain. I was a federal marshal because all the vamp
executioners who could pass the firearms test had been grandfathered in so that the executioners could
both have more powers and be better regulated. Or that was the idea. But I was also the human servant
of Jean-Claude, the master vampire of St. Louis. Through ties to Jean-Claude I'd inherited some abilities.
One of those abilities was the ardeur. It was as if sex were food, and if I didn't eat enough I got sick.

That wasn't so bad, but I could also hurt anyone that I was metaphysically tied to. Not just hurt, but
potentially drain them of life. Or the ardeur could simply choose someone at random to feed from.
Which meant the ardeur raised and chose a victim. I didn't always have a lot of choice in who it chose.
Ick.
So I fed from my boyfriends and a few friends. You couldn't feed off the same person all the time,
because you could accidentally love him to death. Jean-Claude held the ardeur and had had to feed it for