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

After Gram had passed away when Elizabet was twenty years old, she'd continued studying on her own.
Reading, researching, trying to learn everything she could. But never revealing her talents, no. -Because
Gram had warned her about that above all else . . . that even if she could prove that her abilities were
real, it was too dangerous to show them to the world. So she'd studied alone, always hoping to find
others who understood.

And she'd hoped to find a student someday. Elizabet had watched her nieces and nephews closely,
looking for any sign of the family gift. Eventually, she'd decided, one of the children would show the
talent, and Elizabet would pass on the learning to a student the same way Gram had taught her.

She'd never dreamed that her student would be a scrawny, underfed, unwashed runaway white girl.
 Well, she could live with it. Everything but the girl's ethnic background could be cured with good meals,
rest, and a thorough scrubbing. And the fact that the child was white wasn't a problem for her, though
Gram would probably have carried on for hours about howher lessons were meant for good, solid
people of color, people who knew how to -respect an old woman's African wisdom and would use her
teachings in the right way.

She hoped Kayla would use her teachings “in the right way.” That was the danger. She didn't know how
much of the street life had rubbed into the girl; was she a junkie? a whore? a thief or a dealer? Elizabet
would have to find this out, and soon.

I should get some sleep as well. Tomorrow, I'll see what I can learn from this girl, before I begin
to teach her anything.



Kayla rolled over in bed, pulling the blankets over her head. It was too bright, too early . . .

“I've called the hospital. They'll have visiting hours later this afternoon. Do you want to go see your
friend?”

“Uhn,” Kayla said incoherently from under the blankets, then sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes at the light
streaming in through the open window. “I mean, yes, I'd like to go see Billy.”This lady looks like she's
been awake for hours. Doesn't she ever sleep?

“I washed your clothes for you. They're folded over the chair. There's enough time for you to take a
bath, if you'd like.”

“Thank you.” Kayla climbed out of bed and grabbed the handful of clothing from the chair. She
remembered the location of the bathroom from the previous night and smiled at the sight of the large
bathtub.That was something she'd missed, living in Suite 230—a chance to really get clean. Scrubbing
down while standing next to the sink just didn't work that great. She found a bottle of nice-smelling herbal
shampoo on the tiled counter and a towel that Elizabet had left her, and got to the serious work of
removing several weeks of built-up grime.

Clean clothes were a nice change, too. She combed her hair, struggling with the tangles, and smiled at
her reflection in the mirror. This was a Kayla who looked very different, happy and well-rested and
clean, no more smudge marks on her face or tangled and dirty hair.