"Simon Hawke - Wizards 08 - Wizard of Lovecraft Cafe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawke Simon)

her love life interesting, to say the least, and she had wondered if she would not be the next to undergo
some sort of sorcerous mutation.

Kira clenched her fist, feeling the sapphire runestone embedded in her palm. She had not asked for any
of this. She had never been given any choice. The runestone was a part of her now, and yet she had
never grown completely accustomed to it. She wondered if she ever could. It frightened her. It gave her
strange, disturbing dreams that defied her comprehension. Often, in the middle of the night, it seemed as if
she could hear voices murmuring to her, and she was never certain if it was a dream or if she really heard
them. And each time she tried to remember what they said, the memory slipped away.

She had no idea what would happen now. Had Modred's runestone been destroyed, and Modred along
with it? Or had his life force fused with Wyrdrune's, as the life energies of Gorlois and Merlin had fused
with Billy's? The only thing she knew for sure was that she bore the blame for what had happened. She
had allowed her guard to slip and that was inexcusable. It had all happened so fast . . . She suddenly
smelled hot cocoa. She frowned. Hot cocoa?

"One marshmallow or two?"

She looked up and saw Sebastian Makepeace standing over her, holding a steaming hot mug of cocoa in
one hand and a bag of marshmallows in the other.

"Sebastian! I didn't hear you come in ... ."

"Well, you didn't exactly use the door yourself now, did you?" Makepeace replied.

He made an imposing sight, as usual. He stood six feet six inches tall and weighed close, to three hundred
pounds. He wore a black beret at a jaunty angle, and his long white hair cascaded to the shoulders of his
ankle-length, black leather coat, beneath which he wore a red and white striped shirt, a bright blue,
Flemish style cravat, a purple tweed jacket, khaki pants, and suede desert boots. For a university
professor, it was quite a flamboyant outfit. On the other hand, for a man who claimed to be a fairy, it was
probably conservative.

"Sebastian, we were hit," she said.

"So I gathered," he replied, setting the mug down on the coffee table. "Two, I think." He waggled his
index finger and two marshmallows obligingly floated up out of the plastic bag and plopped themselves
into the cocoa.

"You knew?"

"No, but when I come home to find two of you unconscious in my living room, the energy residue of a
healing spell permeating the entire place, and you sitting there with your aura palpitating like a strobe light,
it doesn't take a great leap of deduction to figure out you've had some trouble. Now drink your cocoa."

She stared at him. "How the hell can I drink cocoa at a time like this?"

"You simply lift the mug up to your lips and sip," said Makepeace. "Careful, though, it's hot."

"Sebastian, are you listening to me?"