"Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Coolhunting" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

unable to afford same-hour shuttles or even day transport. Every city in
America, she figured, maybe even every city in the world had cool. She only
had to find it.
And she knew none of the other hunters would come here, the heartland
of American misery, the decaying edge of the known universe, where trends had
not been set, really set, since the early part of the last century.
No one could come here.
Except her.
The shuttle was sleek and small. It sat on the rooftop like a black
bird, wings permanently outstretched. A pilot sat up front and three other
passengers were stepping into the back.
She punched her ticket code into the monitor, and watched as the
electronic security shield shimmered into nothingness. She stepped across and
heard a hum as it started up again.
As she climbed into the shuttle, she saw only ten passenger seats, and
only five were full. Not much cause to go to Michigan in the late evening. She
sank into the leather chair, fastened her belt and closed her eyes.
It would take five minutes from take-off to landing. Barely enough time
to rest her eyes. Certainly not enough time to rethink the trip.
The shuttle landed on a concrete quad behind brick dorms on the
University of Michigan campus. Steffie was the first to exit. She crossed the
quad and entered the security gate, using one of her alias's codes to get
through the scanning equipment.
She stopped when she made it outside. Snow still covered the ground
although the sidewalks were bare. The air was cool and dry, and had a familiar
smell, one she couldn't identify as anything more than childhood, than Ann
Arbor.
Than home.
At the last word, she winced. She hadn't had a home for fifteen years,
and she had liked it like that. Coolhunting suited her, with its insistence on
anonymity, the constant need to keep trolling, the lack of attachments.
But here, here she was Stephanie Wyton-Brew, the second daughter of
Andrew Wyton and Jennifer Brew, granddaughter of Elmer and Elise Wyton and
Anthony and Josephine Brew.
And sister of KD.
She squared her shoulders, hoping they were strong enough to handle all
that weight of the past, of an identity long lost. The house was just past the
university, up on a hilly avenue whose name was lost in the fogs of her
memory, near trees so old their canopied tops shrouded streets that had been
built wide enough for carriages.
She had forgotten the name, but she hadn't forgotten how to get there.
The way to the house she had grown up in was embedded as deeply into her
memory as her father's voice.
Her stomach churned. She had nothing to say to these people. Nothing to
say to anyone, really, even KD.
KD.
The reason for it all.
Steffie trudged along the sidewalk, wishing she had stopped long enough
to get real boots instead of these dated Italian things. The thin leather did
not protect her feet. And she wasn't wearing a coat. She looked like a