"Laurell K. Hamilton - Strange Candy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Laurell K)

thoughts. Carla’s eyes flashed white at me as I began the chant.

“Hear me, Arthur Fiske. I call you from the grave. By blood, magic, and steel, I call you. Arise, Arthur,
come to us, come to me, Arthur Fiske.” Carla joined me as she was supposed to. “Come to us, Arthur,
come to us, Arthur. Arthur, arise.” We called his name in ever-rising voices.

The flowers shuddered. The mound heaved upward, and the chicken slid to the side. A hand clawed
free, ghostly pale. A second hand and Carla’s voice failed her. She began moving round the gravestone
to kneel to the left of the heaving mound. There was such wonder, even awe, in her face, as I called
Arthur Fiske from the grave.

The arms were free. The top of a dark-haired head was in sight, but the top was almost all there was.
The mortician had done his best, but Arthur’s had been a closed-casket funeral.

The right side of his face was gone, blasted away. Clean white bone shone at jaw and skull, and silver
bits of wire where the bone had been strung together. It still wasn’t a face. The nose was empty holes,
bare and white. The skin was shredded and snipped short to look neater. The left eye rolled wildly in the
bare socket. I could see the tongue moving between the broken teeth. Arthur Fiske struggled from the
grave.

I tried to remain calm. It could be a mistake. “Is that Arthur?”

Her hoarse whisper came to me. “Yes.”

“That is not a heart attack.”
“No.” Her voice was calm now, incredibly normal. “No, I shot him at close range.”

“You killed him, and had me bring him back.”

Arthur was having some trouble freeing his legs, and I ran to Carla. I tried to help her to her feet but she
wouldn’t move.

“Get up, get up, damn it, he’ll kill you!”

Her next words were very quiet. “If that’s what he wants.”

“God help me, a suicide.”

I forced her to look at me instead of the thing in the grave. “Carla, a murdered zombie always kills his
murderer first, always. No forgiveness, that is a rule. I can’t control him until after he has killed you. You
have to run, now.”

She saw me, understood, I think, but said, “This is the only way to be free of guilt. If he forgives me, I’ll
be free.”

“You’ll be dead!”

Arthur freed himself and was sitting on the crushed, earth-strewn flowers. It would take him a little while
to organize, but not too long.