"L. Lee Lowe - Mortal Ghost" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lowe L Lee)

The dog stared up at him with large, sentimental eyes. A big skinny creature, black fur dirty and matted, but
otherwise in pretty good shape. Jesse wondered how it managed so well on the street.

'I bet you could teach me a thing or two,' he said.

Jesse stood, jingling the coins in his pocket. They hadn't earned any interest overnight -- just enough for a hot
drink and a hamburger. No doubt a sell-by loaf and some milk would be smarter, but at the burger places they
usually didn't notice how long you used the lavatory. He could at least brush his teeth, maybe wash his neck
and hair. Stripping would be risky, unless he could bolt the door. Few people had seen him without pants, no
one without his T-shirt. He didn't do naked.

Jesse glanced at the sky. The cloud cover resembled an old greying sheet, thin cheap cotton to begin with, the
kind they gave you in those rundown places where, for a few quid, you could get a bed for the night -- he'd
slept a couple of times in one or another of them when he had some money and was desperate for a real
mattress and real roof and real shower -- the kind of linen that didn't even remember white, that you could put
your foot through, and did. Only here it was the sun that was breaking through the crumpled and dingy fabric.
Chapter 1 5

The rain would hold off for a few hours. Ample time to eat and find shelter. It was bad enough being dirty and
bedraggled, but a wet T-shirt was uncomfortable and wet jeans, a torment. He had only one change of clothes,
none too clean. Filthy, actually. He knew there were certain things he could do -- or allow to be done to him --
that would get him a night or two in someone's flat, bathroom and washing machine privileges included. He'd
go back to Mal before it came to that.

Jesse packed up his meagre possessions. He'd follow the river south for a while, then thread west to the
nearest McDonald's. Though he ignored it, the dog trotted along beside him. After a few steps, Jesse paused to
glower.

'Go away,' he said. 'Leave me alone. I can't take on a dog.'

The dog stopped, cocked his head, whined a little.

'I mean it. Get lost,' Jesse said. He stamped his foot and lunged towards the dog, who retreated fearfully.

Jesse resumed his walk, a bit faster now. The breeze off the river ruffled his hair, the freshness of the air more
country than city. He waited several minutes before glancing behind him. The dog stood there, irresolute.
Jesse could tell that it wanted to follow, but didn't quite dare. Jesse didn't like the way this made him feel -- as
if he could take the animal's trust and squeeze it between his fingers like a lump of wet clay.

He almost stumbled over the bird. It lay askew near a tree stump, but as soon as Jesse approached, began to
scrabble with its legs, bent wing dragging and sound one flapping. A kestrel, Jesse saw straight off -- an adult
male with dove-grey tail. It flopped about, trying to escape when he knelt at its side. The dog came over to
investigate, thrusting its muzzle at the bird, who reacted by raking the dog with its sharp talons. The dog
yowled more in surprise than real injury and skittered away.

'Leave it be,' Jesse snapped at the dog.

The dog understood when it was time to ignore a boy, when to obey. It kept its distance.

Jesse looked round. There was no one in sight. With enormous care -- he knew just how sharp those talons