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

He was still in Phoenix at midnight, and had not yet found a hotel. He didn't
want to sleep, didn't want to be led to the next place where someone would die.
He was sitting alone at a small table in a high class strip joint, sipping
bourbon that actually had a smooth bite instead of the cheap stuff he normally
got. The strippers were legion, all young, with tits high and firm and asses to
match. Some had long lean legs and others were all torso. But none approached
him, as if a sign were flashing above him warning the women away. He drank until
he could feel it -- he didn't know how many drinks that was anymore -- and was
startled that no one noticed him getting tight.

Even drunk, he couldn't relax, couldn't laugh. Enjoyment had leached out of him,
decades ago.

When the angel appeared in front of him, he thought it was another stripper,
taller than most, wrapped in gossamer wings. Then it unfolded the wings and
extended them, gently, as if it were doing a slow-motion fan dance, and he
realized that its face had no features, and its body was fat and nippleless like
a butterfly.

He raised his glass to it. "You gonna kiss me again?" His thoughts had seemed
clear, but the words came out slurred.

The angel said nothing -- it probably couldn't speak since it had no mouth. It
merely took the drink from him, and set the glass on the table. Then it grabbed
his hand, pulled him to his feet, and led him from the room like a recalcitrant
child. He vaguely wondered how he looked, stumbling alone through the maze of
people, his right arm outstretched.

When the fresh air hit him, the bourbon backed up in his throat like bile. He
staggered away from the beefy valets behind the potted cactus, and threw up, the
angel standing beside him, still as a statue. After a moment, he stood up and
wiped his mouth with the crumpled handkerchief he kept folded in his back
pocket. He still felt drunk, but not as bloated.

Then the angel scooped him in its arms. Its body was soft and cold as if it
contained no life at all. It cradled him like a baby, and they flew up until the
city became a blaze of lights.

The wind ruffled his hair and woke him even more. He felt strangely calm, and he
attributed that to the alcohol. Just as he was getting used to the oddness, the
angel wrapped its wings around them and plummeted toward the ground.

They were moving so fast, he could feel the force of the air like a slap in his
face. He was screaming -- he could feel it, ripping at his throat -- but he
could hear nothing. They hurtled over the interstate. The cars were the size of
ants before the angel extended its wings to ease their landing.

The angel tilted them upright, and they touched down in an empty glass-strewn
parking lot that led to an insurance office whose door was surrounded by yellow