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

"Drink."

With a sigh of frustrated resignation, she raised the mug to her lips and took a sip. It tasted indescribably
good. She took another, larger sip. The warmth of the hot cocoa seemed to spread slowly throughout
her entire body. She felt herself starting to relax as a sense of calm contentment came over her.

"Good, isn't it?" Makepeace said.

¦"Mmmm, it's delicious." She drank some more. She felt as if she were floating on a warm and fluffy
cloud. A crooked smile played across her lips. "I must be really tired. I think I'm getting a buzz off this . .
. ."

"Drink up."

She finished off the mug, then gave a small belch.
"Better?" Makepeace said.

"Mmmm. Much." Her eyes crossed and she keeled over onto the carpet, unconscious.

"I make the best hot cocoa in town," said Makepeace.



CHAPTER TWO

The young woman who came into the penthouse apartment did not look like anyone who would be part
of a police investigation. Her long and wavy hair was naturally blond, or so McGuire seemed to recall.
He had also seen it brunette, henna red, and silver. At the moment it was violet. She wore large hoop
earrings and a gold butterfly stud in her nose. Dark violet eyeshadow, dark violet lipstick, dark violet
fingernails out to there, McGuire noted, taking inventory. She had on a puffy-sleeved blouse of dark blue
silk, a black and gold embroidered velvet vest, tight, faded blue jeans, and knee-high leather boots with
high heels. To complete the ensemble, she wore a profusion of necklaces and amulets, a dark blue silk
scarf tied around her head, like a Barbary pirate, and she carried a paisley blue and purple wool serape
draped over one shoulder.

Natasha Ouspenskaya, better known simply as "the Gypsy," had no formal connection with the
N.Y.P.D. Most department officials would get blank looks if her name was mentioned, though they all
knew about her. They simply weren't very comfortable admitting it. The Gypsy was not an adept. At
least, she was not certified as one, though McGuire could not swear she abstained from practicing magic
without a license. To the best of his knowledge, she had never tried to pass herself off as an adept. "I'm
just a simple gypsy fortune-teller," she would say with a look of wide-eyed innocence that looked as
genuine as it was misleading. However, whether she practiced any illegal hocus-pocus on the side or not,
any talents she might have had in that area were not what interested Deputy Commissioner Steve
McGuire, or anyone else in the N.Y.P.D. for that matter. What interested them was the fact that she was
a highly gifted psychic, the strongest and most reliable they had ever encountered.

McGuire had dated her briefly shortly after they first met. The memory of that experience still made him
wince inwardly. The Gypsy had just helped the department solve a difficult murder case and the press
had gotten wind of it. McGuire got caught right in the middle and had to take care of the spin control.
Considering her flamboyance, it hadn't been an easy job. He had felt attracted to her from the beginning.