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

Ramon didn't answer. Carlos thought about saying something more, trying to find other words to
convince his baby brother, then decided against it. Today Ramon was saying that he didn't want to help,
but he wouldn't walk away from thefamilia , Carlos knew that. And if Manuel didn't believe him about
thebruja , that was fine, too. When they found the girl, his brothers would change their minds.

Because he'd seen the magic himself. Oh, he'd heard his mother's stories ofmagia andtierra del las
hadas , the land of the faerie people, but he'd never believed them.

Until last night, when he'd seen the sparks of witchlight on the girl's hands, blue and bright in the harsh
light of the jail cell. And the shirt with the bullet hole in it; he'd feltsomething when he touched it, a
strange sensation he couldn't identify. He knew the crazy man's story was true, even if no one else
believed it, not even thepolicía.
He would find the girl, the littlebruja . Even in a city as large as Los Angeles, it was only a matter of time
before they found her.



“It's called magic,” Elizabet said, pouring -another cup of tea. “And you have enough for three, child.
More than anyone I've ever met, to be honest.”

Kayla yawned again, and glanced at the kitchen clock.Six A.M. I wonder if this lady ever goes to
sleep? “I don't believe in magic,” Kayla said stubbornly. It was the third time she'd said that in the last
five minutes, and she wasn't really certain whether she believed it anymore. Especially after what had
happened tonight.

“You keep saying that, but the evidence is -before your eyes. You healed the man in the jail cell . . . yes,
I could tell that just by looking at him,” she said in response to Kayla's wide-eyed look. “I expect you
healed your hurt friend who was mentioned in the police report, though it seems you didn't do a complete
healing on him, since he's in the hospital right now.”

“I'm not a healer. I don't believe in magic,” Kayla repeated, rubbing her eyes.

:How can you keep saying that, Kayla, when you know it isn't true?:

“Stop that!” Kayla shouted, furious. “I hate it when you do that!”

Elizabet put her hand over her mouth, and a -moment later Kayla realized why: she was stifling her
laughter.

“Don't laugh at me!” Kayla yelled. “And stop saying things without opening your mouth. It isn't natural,”
she concluded.

“Who's to say what's natural and what isn't?” Elizabet leaned forward across the table. “I -believe
everyone has a touch of it, a little magic. But only a very few people ever develop it into anything useful
and predictable. And I've never met anyone like you before.”

“I'm nothing special,” Kayla said, looking down at her hands. The same hands that had held that weird
light . . .

“No. At the moment, I'd call you remarkably dangerous, not special.”