"Sizemore, Susan - Laws of the Blood 3 - Companions" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sizemore Susan)

Karen Bailey was Uncle Mike's only child: bright, pretty, just out of college, and engaged to Kevin Crawford, one of Selena's cousins on her dad's side of the family. The two families were thick as thieves, and this was not the first time a pragmatic Crawford had wed a whimsical Bailey. Selena had a decade on her cousin, but they were close. There was a strong family resemblance, Karen being a shorter, thinner, more fashionable version of the Bailey fair-skinned, red-haired, tall Celtic genes. Selena was six feet to Karen's five foot five, athletic being a kind description of Selena's large-bosomed figure. She was pleased to have been picked as a bridesmaid, and the green dress wasn't too ugly.

"Are you having a shoulder holster made to match?"

There was a moment's tense silence after the question was asked by one of the other bridesmaids. This young woman was a college friend of Karen's and a stranger to Selena, so the girl was unaware that her words had been annoying rather than a lame attempt at humor.

Selena had the temper to go with her flame-red hair and was well aware of the nervous looks turned on her by her relatives. Her relatives knew not to discuss her job. They all knew she was a Chicago cop, and some were aware she worked mostly as a homicide detective with the violent crimes unit, but they'd learned long ago that cops did not like to talk business with civilians. And cops really hated having their profession used for entertainment value.

Karen could get away with a joke about her having guns in the house, but for this stranger, the most polite thing Selena could manage was a stiff smile and a shake of her head. Then she gave her relatives a quick glare for worrying that she'd go off on someone who didn't know she was being rude. You raised me to be a proper hostess, Mom, she thought and got an amused look from her mother. Mom had not been one of the family who'd tensed up.

Selena turned to the punch bowl, only to have her hand stop in middip when her mother said, "What I'm wondering is who you're bringing as a date to the wedding, Selena."

What Selena wanted to know was why her mother was in the mood for throwing bombs at her this afternoon.

"It probably has something to do with grandchildren."

Selena spun to face the woman who'd spoken.

Aunt Catie continued without bothering to look up, "You're an only child, and you're not getting any younger."

There was a folding table set up in a corner of the living room, draped in a paisley shawl. Caetlyn Bailey sat behind it with her back to the wall, with her favorite deck of cards spread out before her. Aunt Catie was Mom's sister, and she was as colorful as Mom was prosaic. Catie was Selena's godmother, had chosen her name, and was the closest thing to a confidante Selena had among her huge family. Aunt Catie'd volunteered to do tarot readings for the shower guests and had been too busy telling fortunes to join in the conversation until now.

"The urge to mate and reproduce is an irresistible one," she went on placidly, flipping out cards in a cross pattern. "It seems your mother feels it's high time it caught up with you."

"What about that young man you were seeing a couple years ago?" her mom asked. "Catie told me all about him."

"Not all," Catie said, still turning cards and not looking at her sister.

"Catie says you've kept in touch."

He's not that young, Selena thought. And no, we haven't.

"He certainly understands about mating urges," Catie said. "Doesn't he, Selena?"

Selena put down the punch ladle and her empty cup to the sound of snickering female laughter. Holding her temper was getting harder by the second, but for Karen's sake, she was going to do it. Or die trying.

She turned to face the room, a big smile on her face, and rubbed her hands together briskly. "Game time!" she announced. "We're going to divide up into teams and see which team comes up with the best toilet paper wedding dress."

It was after ten o'clock when Selena finally closed the door on the last of the shower guests. Her mother and Aunt Catie had lingered to help with the cleanup, but the conversation over the dishpan had turned to recent movies and favorite television shows rather than men, mates, and babies. If the success of a party could be gauged in how long it took people to leave, Selena decided she could call the wedding shower a success. Overall, she was pleased to have played hostess but was delighted to finally be alone after a few hours in company. She'd done her bit for the wedding cause, proved that she wasn't a complete recluse, showed off her cooking skills, there were lots of leftovers in the fridge, and her apartment was the cleanest it had been in years.

The flowers and other decorations had been taken away as gifts to the other guests, so she had her place back the way she was used to, simple furniture, pale hardwood floors, uncluttered and uncomplicated. Her mother had once made the comment that she'd seen better decorated convent cells, but Selena had never had much use for possessions. The only artwork on the beige painted walls were framed reproductions of pages from the Book of Kells, gifts from Aunt Catie, reflecting the Irish side of her ancestry. Selena's television was old and mostly unused, but the stereo system that took up much of one living room wall was high-end, and high-tech.

Selena put a selection of Clapton CDs on the carousel, checked the time, and settled on the couch with a book until it was eleven o'clock on the West Coast. When the time was right, she considered going to bed instead, but she got up and turned on the computer on the desk in her bedroom. She logged on to the Internet via an anonymizer browser account rather than her regular ISP account. The chat room ran on Pacific time, which was inconvenient for someone like herself who was not a night person, but she found herself drawn to the sessions just the same. She went by the screen name Layla.

Selena hadn't exactly found this very tentative online community by accident, but she had found it because of some web searching while she was involved in an investigation Homicide worked with the cyber crime child porn unit. She'd discovered a talent for working on the Internet, was taking classes to improve her skills, and was seriously considering transferring to the cyber crime unit. Then again, getting off the street could fight burnout but contribute even more to the tendency toward isolation from the rest of humanity that she'd tried to combat ever since Aunt Catie commented about how weird she was getting a few months ago. Even though it was a bit incongruous, even getting involved with this Internet group was a response to turning into a hermit. She would not let the bastard win! Is it always going to be this way? Her fingers typed and sent the words before she even knew she was thinking them. Selena stared at the screen, appalled at seeing her vulnerability and fear laid out in block-lettered black and white. The way she burned sometimes, the letters ought to be scorched into the screen with a branding iron.

The only other person in the room was Fyrstartr, who typed, What way is that?

Longing. Waiting. Wanting. Obsessed. How long since you've been together?