"Mercedes Lackey - Urban Fantasies" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

“Bitch!” the man screamed as the police lieutenant left the room. “She's an evil bitch, she's the Devil's
daughter!”

Carlos Miguel Hernandez listened to the man's raving for another few minutes, then uncurled from his
position on the jail cell's wooden bench and moved to the corner of his cell, as close as he could get to
the other man. “Why do you say that littleputa is the daughter of the Devil?” he asked conversationally.
“She's just a child.”

“I saw it, kid!” the man shrieked. “I saw it, I saw it!”

“Please,amigo, calm down. Tell me what you saw.”
Carlos listened intently to the man's descriptions of the evening's events, and nodded thoughtfully. “Can
you prove that this happened? Do you have proof?”

“I'll show you, kid, but you have to give it back to me, you have to promise!” the other man said shrilly.

“I promise, I promise,” Carlos snapped impatiently. “And do not call me kid,” he added. “I'm nineteen
years old, I'm a man.”

For an answer, the man's hand reached out through the bars, holding out his shirt. Carlos pulled it into
his cell and looked at it curiously.

“Look on the right side, you'll see the mark,” the man said.

Carlos turned the shirt in his hands and saw the bullet hole. The bloodstains around the hole were fresh,
not yet darkened to the red-brown color of old blood. He brought the shirt closer to his face and sniffed.
Yes, fresh blood.

“I have a hole in my jacket, too,” the man said. “But no bullet wound. She healed me, she's the Devil's
daughter!”

“I believe you,” Carlos said. “If you were still hurt, you would be in the security ward of a hospital, not
here in county jail.”How remarkable, he thought,And how very useful. Though if that child is the
Devil's daughter, it is a kind and gentle Devil who would save the life of someone trying to kill
her.

I want to see this miracle for myself, this child who heals friend and enemy alike.

“Do you know who she is?” Carlos asked. “Do you know where she lives?”

The other man mumbled a negative. Carlos pushed the shirt back through the bars of the cell into the
other man's grasp and sat down on the bench to consider what he had learned.

She could be very useful indeed, this healing child. Tomorrow morning, he would stand in front of the
judge and pay his fines to leave this place. After that, he could begin searching for this child. Somehow he
did not doubt that he or one of his homeboys, the Tyrone Street Boys, would find her, one girl in all of
the city of Los Angeles. He stretched out on the bench and listened in silence to the incoherent words of
the man in the cell beside him. Tomorrow, he would find her. . . .