"Mercedes Lackey & Ellen Guon - Bedlam Boyz" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

Elizabet looked up, to see Nichelle Cable from Detective Headquarters Division. Nichelle
looked just as tired as Elizabet felt. “What's up?”
“I have a girl who witnessed a double homicide tonight on Sunset Boulevard. I didn't think
there was anything unusual about her until she gave me this.” Nichelle held up the witness
identification form and pointed at Line 2.
“So, she lives on Hollywood Boulevard? What's strange about that?” Elizabet asked.
“I wouldn't have thought anything was weird about it, except that when I was in high school,
I worked in a particular movie theater for a few months. This girl gave me the address of Mann's
Chinese Theater.” Nichelle smiled. “I ran her name through the runaway database, and it came
up cherries. Kayla Smith, state ward. She's been in Juvie twice for shoplifting and is currently -
reported missing from a foster home in Orange County. She ran away two months ago. God
knows what she's been doing since.” The homicide detective dropped the form on Elizabet's
desk. “She's all yours, Elizabet.”
“Thanks,” Elizabet said with a wry smile. “Anything else I should know about this child?”
“She's bright and obviously thinks fast on her feet. Doesn't look like she does drugs, though
she's wearing a half-trashed denim jacket that would cover any tracks. No terminal case of the
sniffles or jitters, anyhow, so I doubt she's a crackhead. Maybe you can do something for this
one.”
“Maybe.” Elizabet stuffed the case folder in her briefcase. “Is she in a holding room or one of
the offices?”
“Simmons' office. There's still some fresh coffee in there, if you need it.” Nichelle yawned
and stretched, smiling tiredly. “I'm calling it a night. You might want to buzz Collins and get him
ready to process this kid. I doubt anyone would want to drive her over to Juvie at this hour.”
“You're probably right about that. Thanks for the coffee, Nichelle, I'll need it. Good night.”
“Good luck,” the policewoman said with a grin.
Elizabet picked up her briefcase and her jacket and headed over to Simmons' office. Ten feet
away from the office door, she stopped, closing her eyes for a brief moment.
She knew.
She'd felt it earlier, an “incident” in the city, magical power like a flare going off, as someone
called down magic with all the subtlety of a high-explosive rocket. She'd wanted to go
investigate, but with the boy to escort to the airport, there had been no chance. But now . . .
It was this girl. She could feel it already, even though she couldn't see the girl through the
closed office door. But even at this distance, the sensation of power sparked around her, tingling
and alive. Whoever this girl was, she was a little powerhouse, and probably remarkably
dangerous because of it.
Maybe she was the cause of the double homicide?
No . . . she could sense the child's power, and it burned clean and incandescent. The girl was
bright with power and promise, with no taint of death around her. Instead, it was something else
that she sensed, something that she only saw dimly sometimes when looking in the mirror,
moments when she could see herself and her own magic glowing within her. . . .
The child has magic!
Elizabet opened the door and walked into the office. The girl looked up from where she was
seated with her elbows propped on the table. She didn't look like much, just a street kid wearing
jeans and a denim jacket over a stained T-shirt, long tangled brown hair, and large green eyes.
Those eyes followed Elizabet as she draped her blue suit jacket over the back of the chair and
then sat down across from her.
“I'm Elizabet Winters,” she said. “Elizabet is a mistake on my birth certificate that I've lived
with all these years. You're Kayla, right?” She extended her hand. The kid didn't move, just sat
and watched her with those terrified eyes. Elizabet withdrew her hand, wondering how to handle
this.