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

but I doubt he'd have any objections.”
Curious, Kayla followed Elizabet out of the office. Elizabet led her through the corridors and
open office rooms of the police station.
“The lieutenant's downstairs with our new psychopath,” one officer told Elizabet, and she led
Kayla down a flight of stairs to a brightly lit row of holding cells. A sandy-haired policeman
stood a few feet back from the rows of concrete-walled rooms, from which Kayla could hear
someone screaming curses and obscenities. There was one small iron-barred cell next to the
larger holding cells that had several prisoners in each, men that were mostly sitting around
quietly. In the smaller cell was the man from the QuickStart, wearing a stained white shirt and
jeans instead of the long black leather coat.
In spite of herself, she stared at the killer. Another man, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt and
seated quietly on a bench in the next cell, was watching her through the open bars. She avoided
his curious eyes, looking instead at the man who'd tried to kill her.
There was something wrong with him, she could tell, even at this distance. Something broken
inside that made him crazy this way. Her hands tingled, and she glanced down quickly, making
sure that her fingers weren't glowing again. They weren't, fortunately. Kayla looked back at the
crazy man, wondering just how one would fix something wrong inside somebody's head; it
wouldn't be like fixing a gunshot wound, that was more like patching things back together. No,
this would be like reaching inside and changing something. . . .
Elizabet began speaking in a quiet voice to the policeman; with the lunatic screaming at the
top of his voice, Kayla couldn't hear what she was saying.
“Hey, chickie.” The gunman's voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. “I know who you are, I
know what you did.”
Kayla moved closer so she could hear him. “What?”
“It's magic, did you know that? I've seen magic, and that's what you did.”
Elizabet spoke sharply from behind her. “Kayla! Get away from—”
The man reached out and grabbed Kayla's arm, yanking her toward him with inhuman
strength. “Devil!” he screamed. Kayla was pulled hard against the metal bars, struggling to get
free. The man's other hand clamped onto her throat, tightening painfully.
Elizabet's hand was on the man's arm, trying to pull him away from Kayla. A split-second
later, Kayla felt a shock of hot fire go through her hands, a sudden pain like a knife. The man
yelped and leaped back, falling onto the floor of his cell.
Elizabet pulled her back from the cell, blocking the lieutenant's view of Kayla with her own
body. Kayla glanced down, and saw why: a handful of blue sparks, flickering like fireflies on a
Southern night, were fading from her own fingertips as she watched.
“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Elizabet asked urgently.
Kayla shook her head. “I'm okay, really.” She looked at the man cowering in his cell,
clutching his left arm. “Did he—?” She turned quickly to look at the police officer, hoping he
hadn't seen anything.
“Good use of pressure points, Elizabet,” Lieutenant Simmons said, motioning for them to
stand further back from the cell. “I've seen Ms. Winters do things like that before,” the police
officer continued. “It's some Japanese martial art, isn't it?”
Elizabet's eyes never left Kayla's. “I know a few useful tricks, Jeff,” she said.
“Yes.” The police officer nodded. “In any case, Elizabet, my answer is yes. I don't see why
you can't foster this girl for a few days until a judge figures out what to do for her. Just make
sure the correct paperwork ends up on the captain's desk.”
“That's what you were asking about?” Kayla asked, her eyes wide.
“Only if you don't mind, child. If you'd rather go elsewhere, we can make other
arrangements,” Elizabet said.
“No, that's okay by me.” Kayla didn't know what else to say. She thought about being locked